/ 




Class T % ^lAAJl 

Ronlc . A % a.B "R 5 

Copyright N" 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



RIPPLING RHYMES 



WALT'S KIND OF POETRY 



(± 



The facetious, capricious, delicious poems o£ 
Walt Mason. 

— James Whilcomh Riley, 

Walt Mason is tke voice of tlie people. 

—William Allen White. 

Walt Mason is delightful — true Lumor is so rare 
1^ a commodity. 

^ — Sir A, Conan Doyle, 

I be^an to read, skeptically at first, but more 
1^ and more persuaded, and at last could not break 

I aw^ay from those fascinating rhymes masking as 

I prose, in a carnival concourse of pathos, and fun, 

and satire, and aspiration, but, above all, sense, 

sense, sense. 
f — William Dean Howells, 

; Walt Mason is the high priest of horse sense. 

I —George Ade, 

I have Walt Mason and coffee every morning, 
and one is as necessary as the other, but Walt 
doesn\ ^Ive me heartburn, and coftee does. 

— Mary Roberts Rinehari, . 

Walt Mason's little sermonettes in rhyme are 
gospels, and they are going about doing good. 

— Robert J, Burdette. 

Walt Mason has entertained me on many a 
dreary railway journey. 

— Theodore Dreiser, 

Walt Mason is a better tonic than anything 
that ever was bottled 

— Elbert Hubbard. 



r^Ht-''*rt-»^r->»(.i»«Ww*<V#-S*'^'"~»w.^-»....,.^r^»-ri>yv,-V •r7ff^.^n^jmim^m»*i^- 




The' Umpire 



[ Page 63 



PiBPLING PHYMES 

To Suit The Times 
All Sorts of Themes Embraxin' 

5otnc Ghy 
►Some SziA 

5omc not so Ba^d 

AS 
'WRITTEN BY 







Chic&go 
A.C.MS CLURG & CO. 

IQ13 






Copyright 

A. C McClurg & Co. 

1913 



Putlished Octoter, 1913 



Copyngflitecl in Great Britain 

For permission to use copyrigfkt prose poems in 
tliis book tkanks are extended to tke editors and 
puklisLers of Harper^s Magazine, Harper^s Weekly, 
TLe Ladies* Home Journal. System « Tke Magazine 
of Business* Tke Popular Magazine, Collier^s 
Weekly, Tke Smart Set Magazine, Tke American 
Magazine and Lippincott*s Magazine. 



©C1,A357213 



To 
GEORGE MATTHEW ADAMS 

WKo teacKes poets Low to vnn^ 

And kelps to make tke glad world grin. 

And sticks to friends tkrougk tkick and tkin. 



A 




ONE MOMENT, PLEASE! 

WALT MASON'S poetry IS in a class 
by itself. Although Laving tke ap- 
pearance of prose the rnytnm is per- 
fect and tlie philosophy that runs through 
his lines is illumined hy an irresistible 
humor. There is a quaintness about his 
style that makes his writings a continuing 
delight. 

I began to read Walt twenty-five years 
ago and although he has drawn upon his 
intellectual store constantly for more than 
a quarter of a century the fountain of his 
genius still is flowing w^ith undiminished 
volume and the waters are as pure as in 
the idealistic days of his youth. 

I have shared the satisfaction that his 
increasing fame has brought him and have 
encouraged him to publish this collection 
that his readers, now numbering people 
of many lands, may have permanent 
companionship with him. 



CuC^C^CaJo.^ 






'A 






J 



f 



■■^^OKtWM W " I i » « » Hi^j> 



CONTENTS 

r{f/c First Published in Page 

Morningf in Kansas 1 

Editorial Influence Newspaper dom 3 

Farm MacLinery 5 

Tke Strong Men Popular Magazine 8 

Tke Snowy Day. 10 

TLe Poor Man's Qub .... Collier* s Weekly 11 

Words and Deeds 13 

A Day of Rest 15 

Use Your Head The Butler Way 16 

TLe Gloomy Fan 18 

TLe Purist LippincotCs Magazine., 21 

Quali£cations System Magazine 23 

Tke Pompous Man 25 

Inefficient Men Popular Magazine 26 

Life's Injustice 28 

TLe Politician 31 

Random SKots 32 

Look Pleasant, Please . . . Ladies Home Journal . . 33 

Courage Harper's Weekly 35 

Play Ball 38 

Tke Old Son^s. '. 39 

Guessing vs. Knowing . . . System Magazine 41 

Wken Women Vote Ladies Home Journal. , 43 



u 



Title First Published in Page 

The Agent at tke Door 45 

Good and Bad Times .... System Magazine 47 

Buccaneers Popular Magazine 51 

St. Patrick's Day 53 

Naming tke Baby , . . Harper* s Weekly 54 

Won at Last Smart Set Magazine ... 56 

Tke Greatest TKing 61 

Tke Umpire Popular Magazine 63 

Tke Two Merckants System Magazine 66 

Today's Motto 68 

Some Protests 69 

Tke Workers Collier* s Wee\ly 71 

Tke Utilitarian. Harper s Weekly. ..... 73 

Fireside Adventures Popular Magazine 76 

Hunting a Job 79 

Old and New 81 

Tke Handy Editor Newspaper dom 82 

Tke Sleeper Wakes 84 

In Horseland 89 

Inauguration Day, 1913. . . Collier's Weekly 90 

Prayer of tke Heatken 93 

Tkeory and Practice Smart Set Magazine ... 96 

Fool and Sage 98 

Tken and Now Smart Set Magazine ... 99 

Tke Sleeper 101 

Fooling Around The Butler Way 102 




r«MaHn«ai 



Title First Published in Page 

Guess Who. . . 104 

Trying Again Smart Set Magazine .... 105 

Iconoclasxn Harper* s Magazine. . . . 107 

Gatkering Roses 110 

"'— TLe Future Sport Ill 

Taking Advice 112 

Post-Mortem Industry. . .Smart Set Magazine ... 114 

Tlie Conqueror. . 116 

TLe Trutkful Merchant . . .System Magazine 120 

Standing Pat Collier* s Magazine 122 

The Outcast 124 

Ode to Kansas 125 

Domestic Happiness .... .Smart Set Magazine. . . . 126 

Celebrities Popular Magazine 128 

The Virtuous Editor Collier* s Weekly 130 

This Dismal Age Popular Magazine 132 

Boost Things 134 

The Adventurer Popular Magazine .... 135 

They All Come Back 137 

Home Builders 138 

Failure and Success 140 

The Open Road Popular Magazine .... 143 

The Millionaires 146 

Little Mistakes System Magazine 147 

Easy Morality 150 

The Critic Harpers Weekly 151 




■ II HI WWII—— — — WWWW^i 



^^■•v:'^A■l'*■■■«'*>''»♦«'.».^,^4^(4 •*•»*!«*•*>*•*«»<•>« ♦<fii,<i«B«<*^, 



I 




Title First Published in Page 

Tte Old Timer. Popular Magazine 154 

TLe Brigkt Face The Butler Way 158 

Ladies and Gents 160 

Autumn Joys 161 

Tke Land of Bores Smart Set Magazine 162 

Skilled Labor 164 

An Editorial Soliloquy .... Newspaper dom 165 

Youtkful Grievances 167 

Sunday 169 

Jokn Barleycorn Collier s Weekly. . y . . . 170 

Ckristmas Day Popular Magazine, 172 

A Crank^s TLanksgiving. . .American Magazine . . . 174 

Tke Brief Visit 176 



r 



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V 

{. 

\ 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

TKe Umpire Frontispiece ^ 

Tte Gloomy Fan 19 ^ 

The Buccaneers 50 l/ 

The Sleeper Wakes 85 ^ 

The Conqueror. • • • • H^ ^ 

The Old Timer 155 »^ 



* - \ 






~1 



MORNING IN KANSAS 



I 'HERE are lands beyond tlie 
•* ocean w^nicn are gray beneatn 
tlieir years, wkere a hundred gener- 
ations learned to sow and reap and 
spin; where the sons of Shem and 
Japhet \vet the furrow with their 
tears- — and the noontide is depart-* 
ed, and the night is closing in. 

Long ago the shadows lengthened 
in the lands across the sea, and the 
dusk is now enshrouding regions 
nearer home, alas! There are long 
deserted homesteads in this country 
of the free — tut it^s morning here in 
Kansas, and the dew is on the grass. 

It is morning here in Kansas, and 
the breakfast bell is rung! We are 
not yet fairly started on the work we 
mean to do ; we have all the day be-* 
fore us, for the morning is but young, 
and there ^s hope in every zephyr, 
and the skies are bright and blue. 

It is morning here in Kansas, and 
the dew is on the sod ; as the build-* 



'.r^'"^''A<MiaHMM 



^ 



ers of an empire it is ours to do our 
best ; with our Kands at work m Kan-' 
sas, and our faith and trust in God, 
we shall not be counted idle w^hen 
the sun sinks in the West. 



EDITORIAL INFLUENCE 

IT is a solemn tiling, to tkink wlien 
* you sit down to splatter ink, that 
what you w^rite, m prose or verse, 
may be a blessing or a curse. The 
gems of thought that you impart 
may upward guide some mind and 
heart; some youth may read your 
Smoking Stuff, and say: *'That 
logic's good enough ; the path of vir- 
tue must be fine ; I il have no w^ick-^ 
edness in mme/^ And some day^ 
when you're old and gray, that youth 
may come along your w^ay, and say, 
m language ringing true : *^A11 that 
IVe w^on I ow^e to you! When I was 
young I read your rot; it hit a most 
responsive spot, encouraged me for 
stress and strife, and made me 
choose the best in life/^ And this 
will w^arm your heart and brain; 
you 11 know you have not lived in 
vain. But if you w^rite disgusting 
dope, that thrusts at Truth, and 
Faith and Hope ; if you apologize for 
vice, and show that w^ickedness is 



f 



nice, it well may ckance, wlien you 
are old, and in your veins tke blood 
runs cold, there'll come your way 
some dismal w^reck, who il roast you 
sore, and cry: **By heck! And also 
I might say, by gum! 'Twas you 
that put me on the bum! Your 
writings got me headed wrong; you 
threw it into Virtue strong; and in 
the prison that you see, Fm convict 

No. 23!" 



K. ' '.'yi**^. v^i^'Vt^v '^M^>i^. 






FARM MACHINERY 



W 



E kave tilings with cogs and 

pulleys that will stack and 

bale the hay, we have scarecrows 

automatic that w^ill drive the crow^s 

H away; w^e have riding cultivators, so 

^ we may recline at ease, as w^e travel 

I up the corn rows, to the tune of 

\ *^haw^s* and *'^gees ; w^e have en-* 

I gines pumping w^ater, running churns 

I and grinding corn, and one farmer 

I that I know of has a big steam din** 

ner horn ; all of which is very pleas* 

ant to reflect upon, I think, but we 

need a good contrivance that will 

teach the calves to drink. 

Now, as in the days of Noah, man 
must take a massive pail, loaded up 
with milk denatured, with a dash of 
Adam's ale, and go down among the 
calfkins as the lion tamer goes 
'mong the monarchs of the jungle, 
at the famous three-ring shows ; and 
the calves are fierce and hungry, 
and they haven't sense to wait, till 
he gets a good position and has got ig^ 



i.m jmmvi it m% *tt n »*t> m mmm f mm — ii imnmi i n mmiwn ii K W ^^^xwmb— — <w— 



his bucket straiglit; and tkey act as 
tkough they kadn't e'en a glimmer-' 
ing of sense, for they climb upon his 
shoulders ere he is inside the fence, 
and they butt him m the stomach, 
and they kick him everywhere, till 
he thinks he'd give a nickel for a 
decent chance to swear; then they 
all get underneath him and capsize 
him in the mud, and the milk runs 
down his w^hiskers and his garments 
in a flood, and you really ought to see 
him when he goes back to his home 
quoting divers pagan authors and the 
bards of ancient Rome. And he 
murmurs while he's w^ashmg mud 
off at the kitchen sink: '"What we 
need is a contraption that w^iU teach 
the calves to drink!'' 

WeVe machinery for planting, 
we've machines to reap and thrash, 
and the house>vife has an engine that 
will grind up meat for hash; w^e've 
machines to do our w^ashing and to 
wring the laundered duds, we've 
machines for making cider and to 
dig the Burbank spuds ; all about 



the modern farmstead you may hear 
the levers chnk, but w^e're shy of a 
contrivance that >vill teach the calves 
to drink ! 



A 



lira II II HI iiiiiifw""Tmii HrtWiiwri 



'"''^lifiini-mif nni nr -jtm^tx 



THE STRONG MEN 

DEHQLD the man of muscle, who 
*^ wears tke victor's crown! In 
^or^eous scrap and tussle lie pinneci 
the others down. His brawn stands 
out in hummocks, he like a lion 
treads ; he sits on foemen^s stomachs 
and stands them on their heads. 
The strong men of all regions, the 
mighty men of note, come here in 
beefy legions to try to get his goat; 
with cordial smiles he greets them, 
and when w^eVe raised a pot, upon 
the mat he meets them and ties 
them in a knot. From Russia's 
frozen acres, from Grecian ports 
they sail, and Turkey sends her 
fakers to gather in the kale; old 
brooding Europe breeds them, these 
mighty men of brawn; our Strong 
Man takes and kneads them, and 
puts their hopes in pawn. 

Behold this puny fellow, this meek 
and humble chap! No doubt he'd 
show up yellow^ if he got in a scrap. 
His face is pale and sickly, he's 



weak of arm and knee ; if trouble 
came he^d quickly skin up tke near-' 
est tree. No kale man ever loves 
kim ; ke stirs tke sportsman^s wratk ; 
tke wkole world kicks and skoves 
kim and skoos kim from tke patk. 
For wko can love a duffer so pallid, 
weak and tkin, w^ko seems resigned 
to suffer and let folks rub it in? Yet 
tkougfk ke's down to zero in fellow- 
men^s esteem, tkis fellow is a kero 
and tkat^s no winter dream. Year 
after year ke's toiling, as toiled tke 
slaves of Rome, to keep tke pot a- 
boiling in kis old motker^s kome. 
Tkrougk years of gloom and sickness 
ke kept tke wolf away; for kim no 
tailored slickness, for kim no brave 
array; for kim no ckeerful vision of 
wife and kids a few; for kim no 
dreams Elysian — just toil, tke long 
years tkrougk ! Forever trying, strain- 
ing, to sidestep debtors^ woes, un- 
noticed, uncomplaining^ tke little 
Strong Man goes ! 



THE SNOWY DAY 

I LIKE, to watck the cliilclren play, 
■*• upon a wintry, snowy day ; like 
little elves they run about, and leap 
and slide, and laugk and skout. 
Tkis side of heaven can there be 
such pure and unmixed ecstacy? 
I lean upon ye rustic stile, and 
w^atch the children w^ith a smile, and 
think upon a vanished day, when I, 
as joyous, used to play, when all the 
w^orld seemed youngf and bright, and 
every hour had its delight; and, as 
I brush away a tear, a snowball hits 
ine m the ear. 



10 



THE POOR MAN'S CLUB V 

I 'HE poor man^s club is a genial i 
•*• place — if the poor man has the f 
price ; there s a talmy smile on 
the barkeep's face, and Lotties of 
goods on ice ; the poor man's clut is 
a place designed to brighten our 
darkened lives, and send us home, 
when weVe halfway blind, m humor 
to beat our w^ives. So hey for the 
w^icker demi-john and the free- -\ 
lunch brand of grub! We'll w^assail 
hold till the break of daw^n, w^e 
friends of the poor man's club ! It's 
here we barter our bits of new^s m 
our sw^eat stained hand-me-downs ; 
it's here w^e sw^allow the children's 
shoes and the housew^ives hats and 
gow^ns. It s here w^e mortgage the 
house and lot, the horse and the 
muley cow^; the poor man's club is a 
cheerful spot, so open a bottle now^! 
From brimming glasses w^e'U blow 
the foam till the midnight hour 
arrives, when we'll gayly journey the 
long way home and merrily beat our 



11 



wives^ We earn our dimes like tke 
horse or ox, w^e toil like tlie fabled 
steer, and then we journey a dozen 
blocks to blow in the dimes for beer. 
While the women work at the wash-' 
ingf tub to add to our scanty hoard, 
w^e happily meet at the poor man^s 
club, where never a soul is bored. 
We recklessly squander our minted 
braw^n, and the clubhouse owner 
thrives; and we'll homeward go at 
the break of dawn and joyously 
beat our wives. 



4- 



y 



12 



•jr«*-.*«»-«»-T»«:,^ i,,j,^yi»(*«"rt»t.»» "*^^,w,.^.^^^ ^mufM^'tfr «•.«••:, , 



-^ 



WORDS AND DEEDS 



AFIRE broke out in Bildad^s j 
shack and burned it to tke ^ 
ground; and Bildad, with his roof* 
less pack, sent up a doleful sound. 
And I, wko lived tke next door west, 
kard by tke county jail, went over 
tkere and beat my breast, and 
kelped poor Bildad wail. Around 
tke ruined kome I stepped, and 
view^ed tke skakmg w^alls, and people ^ 
say tke way I wept would beat 
Niagfara Falls. Tken w^ords of sym^ 
patky I dealt to Bildad and kis wife ; 
suck kindly words, IVe always felt, 
nerve people for tke strife. If I 
can kill witk words your fears, or I 
argue grief aw^ay, or drow^n your 
woe by skeddmg tears, call on me 
any day. I kave a sympatketic 
keart tkat bleeds for otkers^ ackes, 
and I w^iU ease your pain and smart 
unless tke language breaks. And 
so to Bildad and kis mate I made a 
kelpful talk, w^itk vital trutks tkat 
elevate and break disasters' skock; 



13 



I pointed out tliat stricken men 
sKould not yield to tke worst, but 
from tke wreckage rise again like 
flame from torch reversed. 

Tken Joknson interrupted me as 
I w^as growing hoarse. A rude, 
oiiensive person he, a tactless man 
and coarse. 

He said to Bildad, **Well, old 
pard ! You are burned out I see ! 
You can't keep house here in your 
yard, so come and live with me!'* 

The neighbors w^ho had gathered 
round applauded Johnson then, 
declaring that at last they'd found 
the kindliest of men; not one ap- 
preciative voice for me, who fur- 
nished tears, who made the sad 
man's heart rejoice, and drove w^ay 
his fears! 



14 






A DAY OF REST 

FM glad tkere is a day of rest, one 
* day m every seven, wken worldly 
cares cannot molest, and we may 
dream of heaven. The week day 
labor tkat w^e Ao^ is kighly neces-^ 
sary, but if our tasks w^ere never 
tbrougb, if they should never vary, 
w^e^d soon be covered o er w^itb 
mold, from bridle-bits to breecbing; 
so let tbe Sabbatb bells be tolled, 
and let us bear tbe preacbmg ! 




o 



15 



USE YOUR HEAD 

IF a man would be a winner, w^Letker 
he^s a clerk or tinner, w^hetker 
ke^s a butcher, banker, or a dealer 
in rye bread, he must skow kis brains 
are bully, ke must undertsand it 
fully tkat a man can't be an Eli if ke 
doesn't use kis kead. 

Tkere w^as old man Hiram Horner, 
once located on tke corner, w^kere ke 
sold kis prunes and codlisk and dried 
apples by tke pound ; ke w^as aWays 
migkty busy; it w^ould fairly make 
you dizzy just to watck old Uncle 
Hiram as ke ckased kimself around. 
He got dow^n wken day w^as breaking, 
always ready to be raking in tke pen- 
nies of tke people if tkey ckanced to 
come tkat w^ay ; ke was evermore on 
duty till tke midnigkt w^kistles, tooty, 
sent kim kome, w^kere ke'd be fus- 
sing to begin anotker day. Yet old 
Hitam soon w^as busted, and you'll 
see kim now, disgusted, wkacking 
mules m w^ortky effort to attain kis 
daily bread; ke was diligent, de^ 



16 



serving, from gfood morals never 
swerving but he lost his gfrip in busi^ 
ness for be didn^t use bis bead. He 
w^as always overloaded witb a lot of 
junk corroded, be w^as aWays sbort 
of goodlets tbat tbe people seem to 
need; be w^ould trust tbe dead beat 
faker till be'd bad bills by tbe acre, 
and be's now at daily labor, w^itb bis 
w^biskers gone to seed. 

Tbere is Tbeodore P. Tally in bis 
store across tbe alley ; you will see be 
takes it easy, not a button does be 
sbed; you can bear tbe w^beels re-' 
volving in bis brow wbile be^s resol- 
ving to get ricb by drawing largely 
on tbe contents of bis bead. 

It is well to use your fingers blitbe-* 
ly wbile tbe dayligbt lingers, it is w^ell 
to use your trilbys w^itb a firm and 
active tread ; it is good to rustle daily, 
doing all your duties gaily, but in all 
your divers doings, never fail to use 
your bead. 



17 



THE GLOOMY FAN 

OTHE gloomy fan is a mournful 
man, and ke fills my soul with 
sorrow; he w^atchecl the play with a 
frown today, and hell scowl at the 
game tomorrow. He ambles in 
when the games begin, a soul by 
the gods forgotten; and he eyes the 
play in his morbid way, and he yells 
out ^'^punk!^' and *Votten!^^ No 
player yet, be he colt or vet, won 
praise from this critic gloomy; hell 
sit and scowl like a poisoned owl, 
and his eyes are red and rheumy; 
and his blood is thin and his heart 
is tin, and his head is stuffed with 
cotton ; and he merely sits, throwing 
frequent fits, and he calls out '^^punk !'' 
and '"''rotten!'^ He casts a pall on 
the bleachers all, and he breaks the 
hearts of players ; he gives the dumps 
to his nibs the umps, w^ho would 
spread him out in layers ; he queers 
the game and he chills the frame of 
the man on the bases trottin\ with 
his fish'like eyes and his mournful 
sighs, and his cries of ^^punk!^^ and 
* '^rotten !^^ 



18 




to. 



-ff^v.*. 



The Gloomy Fan 



THE PURIST 
VP/ILLIAM HENRY", said tte 

^^ parent, and his voice was sad 
and stern, *'I detest the slang you re 
using; will you never, never learn 
that correct use of our language is a 
thing to be desired? All your com-' 
mon hughouse phrases make the 
shrinking highbrow^ tired. There is 
nothing more delightful than a pure 
and careful speech, and the man 
who weighs his phrases always 
stacks up as a peach, while the guy 
w^ho shoots his larynx in a careless 
slipshod way looms up as a selling 
plater, people brand him for a jay. 
In my youth my father soaked me if 
I entered his shebang handing out a 
line of language that he recognized 
as slang. He w^ould take me to the 
cellar, down among the mice and 
rats, and with nice long sticks of 
stove wood he^d play solos on my 
slats. Thus I gained a deep devo-* 
tion for our language undefiled, and 
it drives me nearly batty when I 



« 



21 



hear xny only cliilcl spri^^ingf waJs 
of hard boiled language such as dips 
and yeggmen use, and I want a ref- 
ormation or 111 stroke you with my 
shoes. Using slang is just a habit, 
just a cheap and dopey trick; if you 
hump yourself and try to, you can 
shake it pretty quick. Watch my 
curves and imitate them, weigh 
your words before theyVe sprung, 
and in age you 11 bless the habit 
that you formed when you were 
young/' 



22 



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QUALIFICATIONS 

f WENT arouncl to Thompson's 
*• store and asked him if he'd gfive 
me work — for Thompson, m the 
Daily Roar, was advertising for a 
clerk. He looked me over long and 
w^ell, and then enquired : ^''What 
can you do? Do you in anything ex^ 
eel? If you ve strong points, just 
name a few^/' His manner dashed 
my sunny smile, I seemed to feel my 
courage fall; I had to ponder for a 
w^hile my strongest features to recall. 

**Well, I a motor ooat can sail, and 
I a 4-horse team can tool ; and I can 
tell a funny tale and play a splendid 
game of pool. Fm good at going into 
dett and counting chicks before they 
hatch, and I can roll a cigarette or 
referee a wrestling match.'' 

ihere was a time,'' the merchant 
said, *^when qualities like those w^ere 
£ne ; alas, those good old days are 
dead ! The mixer's fallen out of 
line ! The business houses turn him 




Jown, and customers no longer sigk 
for one to skow tkem tlirough the 
town, and open pints of Extra Dry! 
The salesman of these modern days 
must study things he wants to sell, 
instead of hauntingf Great White 
Ways and paintingf cities wildly well. 
He must be sober as a judgfe, he 
must be genial and polite, from vir-* 
tue^s path he^U never budge, hell 
keep his record snowy w^hite. Into 
the world of commerce go and mark 
the w^ays of business men ; forget the 
list of things you know and then 
come here and try again.'' 

In his remarks there was no bile ; 
with sympathy he gently laughed, 
and dropped me, with a kindly smile, 
adown the elevator shaft. 



24 



THE POMPOUS MAN 

f DO not like tte pompous man; I 
•*• do not -wish, him for a friend ; he's 
huilt on such a gorgeous plan, that 
he can only condescend ; and when 
he bows his neck is sprained; he 
walks as though he owned the earth 
— as though his vest and shirt con- 
tained all that there is of Sterling 
Worth. With sacred joy I see him 
tread, upon a stray banana rind, and 
slide a furlong on his head and leave 
a trail of smoke behind. 



25 



INEFFICIENT MEN 

l/'ING ALFRED, in a rude dis- 
•■•^ guise, was restingf in the cow-*' 
kerd^s cot; the cow^herd's w^ife w^as 
baking pies, and had her oven smok- 
ing hot. 

^'You w^atch these pies,^* exclaimed 
the frau; *'I have to chase myself 
outdoors, and see what ails the spot- 
ted cow, the w^ay she bawls around 
and roars /^ 

King Alfred said he^d watch the 
pies ; then started thinking of the 
Danes, w^ho fooled him with their 
tricks and lies, and put his bleeding 
realm in chains. He studied plans 
to gain his own, fair visions rose 
before his eyes; he'd hew a pathway 
to his throne — and he forgot the 
matron s pies. And then the cow- 
herd's w^ife came in ; she smelled the 
smoke, she gave a shout; she biffed 
him w^ith the rolling pin, and cried : 
*'Ods fish, you useless lout! You 
are not w^orth the dynamite 'twould 
take to blow you off the map ! Your 



26 



head is not upkolstered riglit — ^you 
are a worthless trifling chap !' 

When on his throne King Alfred 
sat, that woman haa an mw^ara 
ache ; she chew^ed the feathers from 
her hat because she'd made so bad a 
break. 

It isn^t safe, my friends, to say 
that any man's a failure flat because 
he cannot shovel hay, or climb a 
tree, or skin a cat. The man who's 
aw^kw^ard with a saw, who cannot 
hammer in a nail, may m the future 
practice law and fill his bins w^ith 
shimngf kale. The ne er-do-w^ell w^ho 
cannot cook the luscious egfg his hen 
has laid, may yet sit dow^n and write 
a book that makes the big best 
sellers fade. The man w^ho blacks 
your boots today, and envies you 
your rich cigar, next year may have 
the right of w^ay w^hile touring in his 
private car. 

It isn^t safe at men to jeer how-* 
ever awkwardly they tread; they 
yet may find their proper sphere — 
no man's a failure till he's dead. 



27 



LIFE'S INJUSTICE 

TPHE learned man labors in Iiis 
•*• lair, and trains tis telescope 
across a million leagues of air, 
among the stars to grope. He would 
increase the little store of knowledge 
we possess, and so he toils forever 
more, and often in distress. His 
whiskers and his hair are long, and 
m the zephyrs w^ave, because — alas ! 
such things are w^rong — he can't 
afford a shave. His trousers bag 
about the knees, his ancient coat^s 
a botch ; his shoes allow^ his feet to 
freeze, he bears a dollar watch. 
And when the grocer's store he seeks 
to buy a can of hash, in frigid tones 
the merchant speaks : 1 11 have to 
have the cash!'* And when he's 
dead a hundred years the people 
will arise, and praise the man who 
found new spheres cavorting through 
the skies. The children in the 
public schools w^iU learn to bless 
his name, and guide their studies by 
his rules, and glory in his fame. 



28 



And in the graveyard, wliere ke went 
unlionored by the town, a big fat 
marble monument will bold tbe w^ise 
man dow^n. 

Tbe low-brow spars a dozen 
rounds, before an audience, and be 
is loaded down w^itb pounds, and 
shillings, crow^ns and pence. 
Wbere^er be goes tbe brawny Gotb 
is lionized by all, like Caesar, wben 
be cut a swatb along tbe Lupercal. 
Promoters grovel at bis feet, and 
offer beaps of scads, if be will con- 
descend to meet some otber bruising 
lads. Tbe daily journals print bis 
face some seven columns w^ide, call 
bim tbe glory of tbe race, tbe nation's 
bope and pride. And bavmg tbus 
become our boast, tbe w^onder of our 
age, be battles w^itb bis larnyx most, 
and elevates tbe stage. In fifty 
years w^ben people speak tbe sa- 
vant's name witb pride, tbe pug's 
renown you'll vainly seek — ^it witb 
its owner died. 

Tbere may be consolation tbere 
for bim wbo bravely tries to solve 



29 



great problems in nis lair, and make 
the world more wise; but w^hen the 
w^orld is ^really wise — may that day 
come eftsoons ! — we'll give the men 
of learning pies, and give the fighters 
prunes. 



30 



"■^ . . J»v 



THE POLITICIAN 

1 WILL not say tliat tlack is Dlack, 
•■• nor yet tkat wkite is white ; for 
rash assertions oft come back, and 
put us in a plight. Some people 
hold that black is white, and some 
that w^hite is black; to me the 
neutral course looks right; I take 
the middle track. If I should say 
that black is w^hite, and white is 
black, today, some one w^ould mix 
the tw^o tonight — tomorrow they^d be 
gray. In politics I w^ish to thrive, 
and sw^iftly forge ahead, so dare not 
say that I'm alive, nor swear that I 
am dead. You say that fishes climb 
the trees, that cows on wings do fly, 
I can^t dispute such facts as these, 
so patent to the eye; with any man 
I will agree, no odds w^hat he defends, 
if he will only vote for me, and 
boom me to his friends. 



31 



RANDOM SHOTS 

f SHOT an arrow into the air, it fell 
*• in the distance, I knew not w^here, 
till a neighbor said that it killed his 
calf, and I had to pay him six and a 
half ( $6.50) • I bought some poison 
to slay some rats, and a neighbor 
swore that it killed his cats; and, 
rather than argue across the fence, 
I paid him four dollars and fifty cents 
( $4.50) . One night I set sailing a 
toy balloon, and hoped it would 
soar till it reached the moon; but 
the candle fell out, on a farmer^s 
straw, and he said I must settle or 
go to law. And that is the w^ay 
with the random shot ; it never hits 
in the proper spot ; and the joke you 
spring, that you think so smart, may 
leave a wound in some fellow^s 
heart. 



32 



LOOK PLEASANT, PLEASE! 

LOOK pleasant, please !'^ tke 
pkoto expert told me, for I kacl 
pulled a lon^ and gloomy face; and 
tken I let a wide, glad smile enfold 
me and hold my features in its warm 
embrace. 

**Look pleasant, please!^* My 

friends, w^e really ought to cut out 
these w^ords and put them in a 
frame; long, long w^ed search to 
find a better motto to guide and 
help us w^hile w^e play the game. 
Look pleasant, please, w^hen you 
have met reverses, w^hen you be- 
neath misfortune ^s stroke are bent, 
when all your hopes seem riding 
round in hearses — a scow^ling brow^ 
w^on^t help you w^orth a cent. Look 
pleasant, please, w^hen days are 
dark and dismal and all the w^orld 
seems in a hopeless fix; the clouds 
w^on^t go because your grief's abys- 
mal, the sun w^on't shine the sooner 
for your kicks. Look pleasant, 
please, w^hen Grip — ^Kmg of diseases. 



33 



has filled your system with his mi-' 
crobes vile ; I know it's hard, but 
still, betw^een your sneezes, you may 
be able to produce a smile. Look 
pleasant, please, w^hatever trouble 
^alls you; a gloomy face w^on't cure 
a single pain. Look pleasant, please, 
w^hatever ill befalls you, for gnashing 
teeth IS w^eary work and vain. 

Look pleasant, please, and thus 
inspire your brothers to raise a smile 
and pass the same along; forget 
yourself and think a w^hile of others, 
and do your stunt w^ith gladsome 
w^hoop and song. 



34 



"i 



COURAGE 

DRAVE men are they who set 
'^ tlieir faces toward tlie polar 
bergs and floes, wko roam the >vilcl, 
unpeopled places, perchance to nnd 
among the snows a resting-place re* 
mote and lonely; a w^indmg-sheet of 
deathless w^hite, where elemental 
voices only disturb the brooding 
year Jong night. 

Brave souls are they w^hose man* 
made pinions have borne them over 
plains and seas, w^ho conquered wide 
and new dominions, and strapped a 
saddle on the breeze. Their engine-' 
driven wings are w^earing new^ path-' 
ways through the realm of clouds; 
they play with death, with dauntless 
daring, to please the breathless, 
fickle crowds. 

Brave men go forth to distant 
regions, forsaking luxury and ease; 
through all the years they've gone 
in legions, to unknow^n lands, o er 
stormy seas ; and w^hen, by sw^ord or 



35 



lever smitten, they blithely jour- 
neyed to the grave, full well tkey 
knew their names w^ere written 
down m the annals of the brave. 

I am as brave as any rover des- 
cribed in gay, romantic screeds, but, 
when my fitful life is over, no epic 
w^iU narrate my deeds. Condemned 
to silent heroism, I go my unmarked 
way alone, and no one hands me 
prune or prism, as token that my 
deeds are known. But yesterday my 
teeth w^ere aching, and to the pain- 
less dentist^s lair I took my w^ay, 
unawed, unquakmg, and sat dow^n in 
the fatal chair. He dug around my 
rumbling molars with drawing- 
knives and burglars' tools, and cross- 
cut saws and patent rollers, and 
marlinspikes and two-foot rules. He 
climbed upon my lap and prodded 
with crowbar and w^ith garden spade, 
to see that I was not defrauded of all 
the agony that's made. He pulled 
and yanked and pried and twisted, 
and uttered oft his battle shout, and 
now and then his wife assisted — ^till 



36 



finally tke teetk came out. And 
never once while thus he pottered 
around my torn and mangled jow^l — 
not once, while I was being slaught-* 
ered, did I let out a single how^l! No 
brass-hands played, none sang a 
ditty of triumph as I took my w^ay; 
no signs of '''Welcome to Our City'' 
w^ere hung across the street that day ! 

Thus you and I and plain, plug 
mortals may show a courage high 
and fine, and be obscure, while 
some jay chortles in triumph where 
the limelights shine. 



J 



37 



PLAY BALL 

LDLAY ball!'' you kear tke fans 
*" exclaim, 'wken weary of a 
drag^m^ game, when all the players 
pause to state their theories in a 
joint debate, or w^hen they go about 
their biz as though they had the 
rheumatiz. And if they do not heed 
the hunch that's given by the bleach-' 
ers bunch, they find, w^hen next they 
start to play, that all the fans have 
stayed aw^ay. The talking graft is 
all m vain, and loafers give the 
w^orld a pain. The fans w^ho w^atch 
the game of life despise the sluggard 
m the strife. They'll have but little 
use for you, who tell what you in- 
tend to do, and hand out promises 
galore, but, somehow, never seem 
to score. No matter w^hat your 
stunt may be, m this the country of 
the free, you'll find that loafing never 
pays ; cut out the flossy grand stand 
plays ; put in your hardest licks and 
whacks, and get right dow^n to Old 
Brass Tacks, and, undismayed by 
bruise or fall, go right ahead — in 
short, play ball! 



38 



THE OLD SONGS 

THE moclern airs are clieerful, me- 
lodious and sweet ; we hear tkem 
sung and whistled all day upon the 
street. Some lilting ragtime ditty 
that^s rollicking and gay w^iU gain the 
public favor and hold it — for a day. 
But w^hen the day is ended, and we 
are tired and w^orn, and more than 
half persuaded that man was made 
to mourn, how soothing then the mu- 
sic our fathers used to know! The 
songs of sense and feeling, the songs 
of long ago! The ""Jungle Joe^^ 
effusions and kindred roundelays 
will do to hum and w^histle through- 
out our busy days ; and in the garish 
limelight the yodelers may yell, and 
Injun songs may flourish — and all is 
passing well, but w^hen to light the 
heavens the shining stars return, and 
in the cottage w^indows the lights 
begin to burn, when parents and 
their children are seated by the fire, 
remote from w^orldly clamor and all 
the world^s desire, when eyes are 



39 



soft and skining, and heartlis witli 
love aglow, how pleasant is the sing- 
ing of songs of long ago ! 



40 



GUESSING VS. KNOWING 

IF I were selling nails or glasSn 
or pills or shoes or garden sass^ 
or koney from the bee — whatever 
line of goods w^ere mine, Fd study 
up that special line and know its 
history. 

If I a stock of rags should keep, 
I d read up sundry hooks on sheep 
and wool and how it grow^s. Be^ 
neath my old bald, freckled roof, 
Fd store some facts on w^arp and 
w^oof and other things like those. 
I'd try to know a spinning- jack from 
patent churn or wagon rack, a loom 
from hog-tight fence ; and if a man 
came m to buy, and asked some 
leading question, I could answer 
with some sense. 

If I were selling books, Fd know^ 
a Shakespeare from an Edgar Poe, 
a Carlyle from a Pope ; and I w^ould 
know^ Fitzgerald's rhymes from 
Laura Libbey's brand of crimes, 
or Lillian Russell's dope. 



41 



If I were selling skoes. Yd seize 
the fact that on gooseberry trees, 
good leather doesn^t grow; that 
shoe jpegs do not grow like oats, 
that cowhide doesn^t come from 
goats — such things Td surely know. 

And if I were a grocer man. I^d 
open now and then a can to see 
what stuff it held; ^twere better 
than to w^rithe in w^oe and make 
reply, ''^I didn't know^,'' when some 
mad patron yelled. 

I hate to hear a merchant say: 
''^I think that this is splendid hay,^' 
''*I guess it's first class tea/' He 
ought to know how good things are, 
if he would sell his silk or tar or 
other goods to me. Oh, knowledge 
is the stuff that wins ; the man with-^ 
out it soon begins to get his trade 
in kinks. No matter where a fellow 
goes, he's valued for the things he 
knows, not for the things he thinks. 



42 



WHEN WOMEN VOTE 

JANE Samantlia/^ said the nus-* 
band, as he donned his hat and 
coat, *'I would oifer a suggestion ere 
you go to cast your vote. We have 
had a bitter struggle through this 
strenuous campaign, and the issues 
are important, and they stand out 
clear and plain. Colonel Whitehead 
stands for progress — for the uplift 
that we need : he invites investiga- 
tion of his every w^ord and deed. 
He^s opposed to all the ringsters and 
to graft of every kind ; he's a man 
of spotless record, clean and pure 
in heart and mind. His opponent. 
Major Bounder, stands for all that 
I abhor; plunder, ring rule and cor-' 
ruption you w^iU see him working 
for; all the pluggers and the heelers 
stood by him in this campaign — so 
I ask your vote for Whitehead and 
the uplift, dearest Jane.'' 

**William Henry," said the house-' 
wife, *'I am sorry to decline, but the 
wife of Colonel Whitehead never 



V>««<% 



o 

iTnMMiiiaiwMtr'ii 



43 



was a friend of mine. Last July she 
gave a party— you recall her Purple 
Tea?^ — and invited all the neighbors, 
but she said no word to me. I don't 
care about your issues or your up-^ 
lift or your ring, but I w^on't support 
the husband of that sillyi» stuck-'Up 
thing!" 

Major Bounder w^as the victor on 
that day of stress and strife, for it 
seemed that many w^omen didn\ 
like the Colonel's wife. 



44 



THE AGENT AT THE DOOR 

AWAY with you, stranger!* ex-* 
*^ claimed Mrs. Granger, ^^avaunt 
and skedaddle ! Come kere never 
more ! You agents are making me 
crazy and breaking my heart, and I 
beg that you'll trot from my door! 
IVe bought nutmeg graters, shoe- 
laces and gaiters, IVe bought every- 
thing from a lamp to a lyre ; IVe 
bought patent heaters and saws and 
G^^ beaters and stoves that exploded 
and set me afire/' 

**You re laboring under a curious 
blunder,^' the stranger protested; *'I 
know^ very w^ell that agents are try- 
ing, and dames tired of buying; but 
be not uneasy — ^IVe nothing to sell/' 

**Fm used to that story — it's whis- 
kered and hoary,'' replied Mrs. 
Granger, *Vou want to come in, 
and then when you enter, in tones 
of a Stentor you'll brag of your pol- 
ish for silver and tin. Or maybe 
you re dealing in unguents healing. 



f 

\ 



45 



or dye for tlie wniskers, or salve for 
tke corns, or something tkat quick-* 
ens eggJaymgf in chickens, or knobs 
for the cattle to wear on their 
horns. It's no use your talking, 
you'd better be walking, and let me 
go on w^ith my housework, I think; 
you look dissipated, if truth must 
be stated, and if you had money 
you'd spend it for drink." 

*'^My name,'' said the stranger, 
w^ho backed out of danger — the 
woman had reached for the broom 
by the w^all — "^is Septimus Beecher; 
I am the new preacher; I just 
dropped around for a pastoral call/^ 



46 




\ 



? 



GOOD AND BAD TIMES 



j 'T'IMES are so tad I have the 

•■• blues/* says Bilderteck, who 
deals in shoes. *'A11 day I loaf 
around my store, and folks don^t 
come here any more ; I reckon they 
have barely cash to buy cigfars and 
corn beef hash, and when they've 
bought the grub to eat, they canit 
afford to clothe their feet. 

* ihere s something w^rong w^hen 
trade's thus pinched,' says he, *''and 
someone should be lynched. The 
cost of living is so high that it's 
economy to die ; and death is so ex- 
pensive, then, that corpses w^ant to 
live again. The trusts have robbed 
us left and right, and there's no 
remedy in sight; the government is 
out of plumb and should be knocked 
to Kingdom Come." 

And Ganderson, across the street, 
is selling furniture for feet. All day 
he hands out boots and shoes w^ith 
cheerful cockadoodledoos. *T have 







47 



no reason to complain, ^ says Gan- 
derson; ^'all kicks are vain; my cus- 
tomers don't come to kear me rais- 
ing thunder by the year. 

"They have some troubles of their 
own, and do not care to hear me 
groan. And so I beam around my 
place, and wear a smile that splits 
my face, and gather in the shining 
dime — trade's getting better all the 
time I 

Though days be dark and trade be 
tough, it's aWays well to make a 
bluff, to face the w^orld w^ith cheer- 
ful eye, as though the goose were 
hanging high. No merchant ever 
made a friend by dire complainings 
w^ithout end. And people never seek 
a store to hear a grouchy merchant 
roar; they'll patronize the wiser 
gent who doesn't air his discon- 
tent. 



48 




B 



uccaneers 



r 



BUCCANEERS 

(The Pirate of 1612) 

/^H, once a^ain my merry men and 
^^ 1 are on the vv^ater with pros- 
pects fair, witk hearts to dare, and 
souls athirst for slaughter ! Before 
the breeze 'we scour the seas, our 
vessel low and raking, and men 
w^ho find our ship behind in mortal 
fear are quaking. We love the 
fight and our delight grows as the 
strife increases; we slash and slay 
and hew our w^ay to w^in the golden 
pieces. To hear, to feel the clang 
of steel! Ah, that, my men, is 
rapture ! Our hearts are stern, w^e 
sink, w^e burn, we kill the mien w^e 
capture ! Why mercy show when 
well we know that w^hen our course 
is ended, we all must die — they'll 
hang us high, unshriven, unde- 
fended ! Ah, w^olves are we that 
roam the sea, and rend with savage 
fury; as soft our mind, our hearts 
as kind will be judge and jury! To 
rob and slay we go our way, our 






51 



vessel low and rakmgf ; and men 
who hail our ebon sail may well be 
chilled and quaking! 

(The Pirate of 1912) 

MY heart is light and glad tonight, 
and life seems good and merry ; 
my coffer groans w^ith golden bones 
IVe pulled from the unwary. Ah, 
raiment fine and gems are mine, 
and costly bibs and tuckers; I got 
my rocks for mining stocks — ^I 
worked the jays and suckers. What 
though my game is going lame* — a 
jolt the courts just gave me — my 
lawyers gay w^iU find a w^ay to beat 
the law and save me. FU just lie 
low^ a year or so until the row blow^s 
over, then FU come back to my old 
shack and be again in clover! IVe 
fifty w^ays to w^ork the jays and 
there^s a fortune in it! The sucker 
crop w^ill never stop, for one is born 
each minute. 



52 



ST. PATRICK'S DAY 

A WAY with tears and sordicl fears, 
*- ^ no trouble will w^e borrow, tut 
shed our w^oes like winter clothes — 
it's Patrick's day tomorrow. With 
clubs and rakes w^e'U chase the 
snakes, and send the toads a-flyin^, 
and w^eil be seen with ribbons 
green, all other hues decrying. In 
grass-green duds w^e'U plant the 
spuds, w^here they can do no growing ; 
with flat and sharp we'll play the 
harp, and keep the music going. 
Then let us yell, for all is well, the 
w^orld's devoid of sorrow^; the toads 
are snared, the snakes are scared, 
it's Patrick's day tomorrow. 



«?■ 



53 



NAMING THE BABY 

T7IRST I thougftt Fci call hitn Caesar ; 
* but my Uncle Ebenezer saici tkat 
name was badly hoodoed — wasn't 
Julius Caesar slam? Tben I said^, 
^'^I'll call him Homer^' ; but my second 
cousin Gomer answered; "^"^ Homer 
w^as a pauper, and he w^rote his 
rhymes in vain/^ Long I pondered, 
worried greatly seeking names both 
sw^eet and stately, something proud 
and high and noble, such as ancient 
heroes bore. '^'I shall call him Alex- 
ander — ''but an innocent bystander 
muttered, **AlecK w^as a tyrant, and 
he splashed around m gore/^ And 
my aunts said : ^""Only trust us, and 
we u name him Charles Augustus,, 
w^hich is princely and becoming, and 
will end this foolish fuss." But my 
Cousin James objected: "^"^Nothmg 
else can be expected, if you give him 
such a handle, but that folks w^iU call 
him Gus." *Xet us call the darling 
Reggie," said my cheerful sister 
Pe^^y-i **w^hich is short for Rex or 



54 



I But my Uncle George protested. 

**Surely/' said he, "^ V^u but jested : 
never yet did youth named Reggie 
scale the shining height of fame/' 
Thus it was for weeks together, and 
V I often w^ondered whether other pa-* 
J rents ever suffered as I did upon the 
f rack. All my uncles and my cousins 
and my aunts gave tips by dozens, 
so I named the babe John Henry, 
and for short w^e call him Jack. 



i 



i 



55 



WON AT LAST 
I. 

DISE, Charles De Jones, rise, if 
A V yovi please ; you don't look well 
upon your knees. You say that I 
must be your bride ; in all the whole 
blamed countryside no other girl 
could fill your life with joy and sun- 
shine, as your wife. What can you 
offer — ^you who seek my hand? You 
draw ten bucks a week. Shall I your 
Cheap John w^igwam share, the 
daughter of a millionaire, w^ho early 
learned in w^ealth to bask? Shall I 
get down to menial task? Go chase 
yourself! My hand shall ^o to one 
who has a roll of dough !'' 

Thus spake Letitia Pinkham 
Brown, the fairest girl in all the town. 
Her lover, crushed beneath the 
w^eight of blows from an unkindly 
fate, rended his garments and his 
hair and turned away in dumb de*' 
spair. 



56 



(?■ 



11. 

Our hero s feet, of course, were 
cold, and yet his heart >vas strong 
and bold. **^It will not heal this wound 
of mine,^' he said, '^'^to murmur and 
repine. Though sad my heart. 111 
sing and smile, and try to earn a 
princely pile ; and having got the bul- 
lion, then I'll ask her for her hand 
hand again/ 

He quenched the yearnings of his 
heart and plunged into the clanging 
mart as agent for a handsome book 
instructing women how to cook. His 
volume sold to beat the band and 
w^ealth came in hand over hand ; but 
ever, as he scoured the town, he 
thought of ^Titia Pinkham Brow^n, 
and scalding tears anon w^ould rise 
and almost cook his steely eyes. 

III. I 

Once more a lover knelt before 
Letitia Pinkham Brown and swore 
to cherish her while life endures. 



r. 



57 



■'l^jfcJK-Jftk****, riltffyH„fffai>r,inm--~-Si .^ ;^ 



**Coine out of it, ske said, **Fin 
yours. 

He rose, a man of stately frame ; J 
Roland Percival his name. He had a 
high, commanding mien, and seemed 
possessed of much long green; in 
costly fabrics he was dressed, and 
diamonds flashed upon his hreast. 

*And so youVe mine!^^ J. Roland 
cried. 'You 11 be my own and only 
bride ! Oh, joy, oh, rapture ! I am 
It! Excuse me w^hile I throw a fit. 
Come to my arms, my precious dear ! 
My darling love — but w^ho comes 
here?^^ 

De Jones stood in the arbor door, 
and deadly w^as the smile he w^ore. 

IV. 

J. Roland cried in abject fear: 
''^Great Scott! What are you doing 
here?" 

'"'Well may you ask,'' said Charles 
De Jones, m bitter, caustic, scathing 
tones. ''YouVe dodged me for a 



i 



58 



dozen weeks, out noAv — *tis tke 
avenger speaks — you^ll have to pay 
up w^kat you owe, or to tke county jug 
you'll go/* 

Then turning to the maiden fair, 
De Jones w^ent on: *'That villain 
there ! Four months ago I sold that 
man a cook book on th* installment 
plan. He gave his solemn pledge to 
pay, for seven years, two cents a day. 
He made two payments, then he 
flunked. IVe hung around the place 
he bunked, IVe chased him through 
the irain and sleet, IVe boned him on 
the public street, IVe shadowed him 
by night and day, but not a kopeck 
w^ould he pay. Fm weary of these 
futile sprints; FU roast him in the 
public prints, and give him such a 
bum renown he'll be a byword in the 
tow^n. 

She viewed her lover in amaze, 
and cold and scornful was her gaze. 

**And so the book you handed me, 
to plight our troth,'' with ire said she, 
*Vo^ bought from CharKe here on 



59 



tick? Skidoo! A deadbeat makes 
me sick! I'll never marry any jay 
wlio can't dig up two cents a day!'' 



V. 

**^I have a bundle m the bank," 
said Charles, as on his knee he sank, 
**and all of it is yours to blow, so let 
us to the altar gfo.'* 

**IVe learned some thingfs,'* said 
L. P. Brown, ^'and now I would not 
turn you down if you were busted 
flat, my dear ; I've learned that love's 
the one thing here that's worth a 
continental dam* ; you ask for me — 
well, here I am!" 



*Dam— A f 
Dictionary. 



ormer copper com. 



60 



i-.o.«.ni,.-^T»»}-^ 



THE GREATEST THING 

I ^HE orator sKrieks and clamors, 
^ and kicks up a lot of dust, and 
larrups and whacks and hammers 
the weai^ old sinful Trust; the 
congressman chirps and chatters, 
pursuing his dream of fame; tut 
there s only one thing that matters, 
and that is the baseball game. The 
pessimist rails and wrangles, and 
takes up a lot of room and tells, in a 
voice that jangles, his view of the 
nation's doom; w^e shy at his w^hy 
and w^herefore, and balk at his 
theories lame; for there's only one 
thing we care for, and that is the 
baseball game. The rakers of muck 
are busy, with shovels and spades 
and screens, a-dishing up stuff 
that's dizzy, in the popular maga- 
zines ; these f ellow^s are ever present, 
with stories of graft and shame, and '{ 
there's only one thing that's pleasant, 
and that is the baseball game. 
Some people are in a passion, and 

have been, for many weeks, because 

"■--/I 

It 

-■ ■ - i--irr ~'~'— '-—••"'^'''^imr r» n !!■ . ■ ! m w um ** iiiu._.i.i iii w r •" -- '•' -«..'-»»^' 3 

61 



tte decrees of faskion make Avomen 
look muck like freaks; wky worry 
about tke dress of the frivolous 
modern dame? There's only one 
thing impressive, and that is the 
baseball game. 



62 



THE UMPIRE 

DE kind to tke umpire wlio tosses 
*-^ the ^ame, wkose doom is too 
frequently sealed ; it serves no good 
purpose to camp on kis frame, and 
strew him all over the £eld. 

The umpire is human — which fact 
you may doubt — sl creature of tissues 
and blood; he pales at the sound of 
your bloodthirsty shout, and shrinks 
from the sickening thud. He may 
have a vine covered cottage like 
yours, a home w^here a loving w^ife 
dwells; and when he's on duty the 
fear she endures is something no 
chronicler tells. She hears from 
the bleachers a thunderous roar, 
and thinks it announces his fate. 
**I reckon,^' she sighs, '"^he'll come 
home on a door, or perhaps in a 
basket or crate/' 

Be kind to the umpire; his hopes 
are your own; he's doing the best 
that he can; his head isn't elm and 
his heart isn't stone; he's Just like 






63 



tke neiglitoring man. Don*t call 
him a bonekeacl or say his work's 
punk, o^ that he's a robber insist; 
don't pelt him with castings or vitri- 
fied junk, or smite him with bludgeon 
or fist. 

Suppose you are doing the best 
you know how^, and striving your 
blamedest to please, and bystanders 
throw at your head a dead cow, or 
break your legs oH at the knees. 
Suppose you are trying your best 
to be fair, and critics come up in a 
crowd, set fire to your whiskers, and 
pull out your hair, and put you in 
shape for a shroud. If people re- 
fused to believe that you try to give 
them their fifty cents' w^orth, you'd 
be so discouraged you'd sit down and 
cry, and say there's no justice on 
earth. 

Be kind to the umpire and give 
him a chance to live to a happy old 
age ; reward him with praise and 
encouraging glance when he does 
his devoir on his stage. Save up 



64 



your dead cats for the scavenger 
man, your cabbage for cigarette 
smoke ; the umpire is doing tlie best 
that he can — he shouldn^ be killed 
as a joke. ^ 






65 



THE TWO MERCHANTS 

IV/IETHINKS that clerks, the whole 
*'^^ world through, will do much as 
their hosses do, for which they*re 
not to blame ; for emulation is a part, 
in o£&ce, drawing room and mart, 
of this weird human game. 

I often go to Jimpson^s store; I 
blow in twice a day or more to buy 
my prunes and things. Old Jimp- 
son is a joyous jay ; he hustles around 
the livelong day, he w^histles and he 
sings. I like to watch the blamed 
old chump ; I like to see him on the 
jump, he is so full of steam; and 
all his clerks have caught his style; 
they hump around with cheerful 
smile, and do not loaf or dream. 

When I blow into Jimpson's lair 
they all seem glad to see me there 
and anxious for my trade; they 
give me brisk attention then, and 
sing the chorus, **Come again T* 
when from the shop I fade. 

Jim Clinker has another store. 



66 



Jim Clinker's kead seem always 
sore, he grumbles and he scowls; 
and all his clerks have caught that 
trick; they gloom around the store 
like sick or broken-hearted owls. 
When I go in to tuy some tea, a 
languid salesman w^aits on me as 
though it were a crime to rouse 
him from his sour repose, his brood- 
ing over secret woes, and occupy 
his time. 

If Clinker's clerks to Jimpson 
went, they soon would shake their 
discontent, and carol like the birds; 
if Jimpson^s clerks for Clinker toiled 
their optimism would be spoiled; 
they'd hand out doleful words. 

And so I say, and say some more, 
that all the salesmen in a store will 
emulate their boss ; if he is sour on 
all the works, you may be sure his 
string of clerks will be a total loss. 



67 



TODAY'S MOTTO 

T OVE your neigkbor as your- 
'*— ' self/' was a motto famed of 
yore ; now it's placed upon tke skelf , 
witk about a thousand more; now 
the child on mother's knee, sees the 
lovelight in her eyes, w^hile she says : 
^^Where'er you be, boil the germs 
and swat the flies !'* In the olden 
golden days, preachers told the 
sacred tale of poor Jonah's erring 
w^ays, and his journey m the whale; 
of the lions in their den, and of 
Daniel, good and w^ise ; now they 
preach this creed to men: 'Boil 
the germs and swat the flies!" 
When my dying eyelids close, and 
the world is grow^mg dim, while I'm 
turning up my toes, I may ask to 
hear a hymn ; and the people by my 
bed, they will sing, w^ith streaming 
eyes, while each humbly bows his 
head: '^'Boil the germs and swat 
the flies!" 



68 



te 



SOME PROTESTS 

I SIT in my cusliioneJ motor, in-* 
** aulgmg in "wise remarks, con- 
cerning tne outraged voter cruskea 
down by tke money sharks. We 
turdened and weary toilers are 
ground by tke iron wheels of soul- 
less, despotic spoilers, and bruised 
by the tyrants^ heels. TheyVe 
nauntmg their corsair mottoes w^hile 
treading upon our toes, and some of 
us can't have autos or trotters or 
things like those. I know^ of a | 

w^orthy neighbor who lives in a ! 

humble cot, and after long years : 

of labor he hasn't a single yacht! 

While eating my dinner humble — j 

of porterhouse steak and peas, and 1 

honey from bees that bumble, and 
maybe imported cheese — I think, | 

with a bitter feeling, of insolent j 

money kings, w^ho, drunk w^ith their \ 

w^ealth and reeling, condemn me to 
eat such things. The pirate and 
banknote monger still gloat o'er 
their golden stacks, while I must ^ 

i 

69 



appease my kunger witk oysters anJ 
canvasbacks. Tke plutocrat kas his 
ckuffer, a minion of gfreed and pelf; 
the poor man must weep and suffer, 
and drive his own car himself. 

The plutocrat homeward totters 
with diamonds to load his ^irls, and 
meanwhile my wife and daugfhters 
must struggle alongf w^ith pearls. 
In silk, with a trademark Latin, the 
plutocrat*s wife appears, and I can 
afford but satin to tog out my 
dimpled dears. The plute has a 
splendid palace, with pictures and 
Persian rugs; he drinks from a 
silver chalice and laughs at the poor 
men^s jugs, and I, in my lowly 
cottage, that^s shadowed by tree 
and vine, fill up on mock turtle 
pottage, with only three kinds of 
wine ! 

It's time for a revolution, to 
punish the w^ealthy ones! Y\\ fur^ 
nish the elocution if you'll bring the 
bombs and guns! 



70 



THE WORKERS 

LJERE'S to the man who labors 
^ * and does it witk a song! He 
stimulates kis neigkbors and kelps 
tke world along! 

I like tke men wko do tkings, wko 
kustle and ackieve ; tke men "wko 
saw and glue tkings, and spin and 
dig and w^eave. 

Man earns kis kread in sweat 
or in blood since Adam sinned ; and 
kales oi kay are better tkan are 
your bales of wind. 

Man groans beneatk kis burden, 
beneatk tke ckain ke wears; and 
still tke toiler's guerdon is wortk 
tke pain ke bears. 

For tkere s no satisfaction be-» 
neatk tke bending sky like tkat tke 
man of action enjoys w^ken nigkt is 
nigk. 

To look back o'er tke winding and 
dark and rocky road, and know 
you bore your grinding and soul- 
fatiguing load — 



71 



As strong men ougflit to bear it, 
through all the stress and strife — 
that's the reward of merit — that is 
the halm of life ! 

I like the men 'who do things, w^ho 
plow and sow and reap, who huild 
and delve and hew things while 
dreamers are asleep. 



72 



•■'*-... r^^ 



THE UTILITARIAN 

WE sat around tne stove dis- 
coursing of xnighty deeds that 
we kad done ; of strugglmgf up tlie 
Alps and forcmgf our way to sum- 
mits tken unwon; of figkts w^itk 
lions and nyenas, of facingf grim 
and ghostly shapes, of dodging bail- 
iffs and subpoenas, and many peril- 
ous escapes. 

And one sat by, distraught and 
gloomy, and listened to each stirring 
tale ; his beard w^as long, his eyes 
w^ere rheumy, his nose w^as red, his 
aspect stale. And this old pilgrim, 
dour and hoary, on all our pleasure 
drew the noose ; for, at the end of 
every story, he'd sadly ask: **What 
w^as the use?'^ 

I told of how I went a-sailing to 
Europe in an open boat; the billows 
raved, the winds were wailing till I 
could scarcely keep afloat. The salt 
sea spray was on my features ; I 
heard King Neptune^s angry shouts ; 



f^ 



73 



I fought with \i^kales and other 
creatures, and was pursued by wa- 
terspouts. I sailed those seas for 
weeks together, and bore my life in 
either hand, and very often doubted 
w^hether Fd ever bring my boat to 
land. But still, resolved on win-* 
ning glory, I sailed along like Cap* 
tain Loose. The old man broke into 
my story, and mildly asked : **What 
was the use?' 

Jones told of how, appareled thin-* 
ly (the thirst for glory warmed his 
breast) , he scaled the heights of 
Mount McKinley and placed our flag 
upon its crest. He placed the flag to 
thw^art the scorner, the doubter, and 
the man obtuse ; and then the old 
man in the corner looked up and 
asked: *'What was the use?'' 

Brown told of how a cask he en* 
tered and floated o'er the Horseshoe 
Falls, and how all eyes for months 
were centered on him; in cottages 
and halls the people joined to sing 
his praises or level at his head 
abuse ; the old man heard his burn-^ 



74 



in^ phrases^ and sadly asked : ^^WLat 
was tlie use?^ 

We smote him roundly in our an^ 
^er, resolved to cook kis ancient 
goose, and still, above the din and 
clangfor, we heard him ask, **What 
is the use? 



75 



FIRESIDE ADVENTURES 

IT is not mine tke world to roam; 
when I was born the Fates decreed 
that I should always stay at home, 
and deal in hay and bran and feed. 
For mighty deeds I have no chance 
w^hile I am rustling in my store ; and 
yet my life has its romance, and IVe 
adventures by the score. 

For evening comes, and then, 
serene, to my abode I take my way, 
and grab this good old magazine, 
and leave the world of bran and 
hay. Through Arctic wildernesses 
cold, I follow the explorers* train, 
or seeking go for pirate's gold along 
the storied Spanish Main. Oft, by 
the miner's struggling lamp, I count 
the nuggets I have won; or in the 
cowboys' wind-swept camp indulge 
in wild athletic fun. The big round 
w^orld is all for me, brought to me 
by the sprightly tale; o'er every 
strange and distant sea my phantom 
ship has learned to sail, I travel 
in all neighborhoods where daring 



76 



r 



^ 



man kas left kis tracks ; I am tke 
kunter in tke woods, I am tke 
woodman witk kis ax. I am tke f 

grim, effective sleutk wko goes fortk | 

in a rare disguise, and quickly drags f 

tke skining trutk from out a moun- ^ 

tain range of lies. I am tke w^atcker 
of tke roads, tke kigkw^ayman of 
wold and moor, relieving rick men | 
of tkeir loads, to give a rakeoff to I 
tke poor. I am tke kero of tke \ 
crowds, as, on my trusty aeroplane, 
I cleave a patkway tkrougk tke 
clouds, to Milky Way and Ckarles's 
Wain. I am tke pitcker know^n to 
fame ; I pitck as tkougk I worked Ly 
steam, and in tke last and crucial 
game I win tke pennant for my 
team. I am tke wkite man^s final 
kope, on w^kom kis aspirations kmge, 
and, notwitkstanding all tke dope, 
I knock tke dayligkts from tke dinge. 

I am tke man of action w^ken, w^itk 
lampligkt gloating o^er tke scene, I 
bask at leisure in my den, and read 
my favorite magazine. And so all 
day I stay at kome attending to tke 

77 



treadmill grind; but when nigkt 
comes afar I roam, and leave the 
workday world bekind. 



78 



HUNTING A JOB 

I WOULD like a situation. I kave 
•■• huntecl for it long/^ said a youtk 
who looked discouraged ; **every-* 
thing tliat is is wrong; there is no 
demand for lator, no respect for will-* 
ing hands, hence the people who are 
idle are as frequent as the sands. I 
have w^aited in the pool hall through 
the long and weary day, and no lu- 
crative position seemed to come 
along that way; I have stood upon 
the comer, smoking at my trusty 
coh, but no merchant came to hire 
me,though all knew I had no joh; I 
have sat on every doorstep that 
against me w^asn^t fenced, you could 
scarcely find a building that I haven^t 
leaned against; I have smoked a 
thousand stogies, I have chewed a 
cord of plug, I have shaken dice with 
dozens, I have touched each cider 
]ug, to sustain my drooping spirits 
while I waited for a berth, with some 
up-to-date employer who^d appre- 
ciate my worth. But the world is 



79 



out of kilter and tke country's out 
of plumb, and tke poor downtrodden 
voter fit^ds tkat thmgfs are on the 
um. 



b " 






1 



80 



•'■fmmmmm 



OLD AND NEW 

MEW SONGS are made in lon^ 
•*• ^ array; we learn and singf them, 
— for a day, and then they fade and 
die away. But w^hen the long, sad 
day is through, refreshing as the eve- 
ning dew, are those old songs our 
fathers knew. New books, in rich 
and gorgeous dress, are coming 
hourly from the press, and charm 
by all their lovlmess. But when 
from bench or desk w^e roam, to find 
the resting place at home, we read 
the old, old treasured tome. New- 
friends are made at every reach of 
our long road to Styx's beach; new 
friends of warm and pleasant speech. 
But when life's sun is in the West, 
and feet are tired and hearts oppress-^ 
ed, the old time friend seems always 
best. 



1 



81 



THE HANDY EDITOR 

VVTHEN a man tas ^ot a grievance 
^^ tkat is keeping him awake, 
some old moldy, tiresome trouble 
that has made his innards acne, then 
Le comes a-callyhooting to tne print- 
ing-office door, for te 'wants to skare 
his trouble with the humble editor e. 

When a man has got a hobby that 
has put him on the bum, then the 
people flee a-shrieking when they 
chance to see him come; but he 
know^s one w^eary mortal w^ho must 
suffer and endure, so he comes to 
share his theories with the lowly 
editure. 

When a man has got a story that 
with age w^as stiff and stark when old 
Father Noah told it to the people in 
the ark, then he comes, a-bubbling 
over, to the Weekly Bugle's lair, for 
he w^ants to share his gladness with 
the soulful editaire. 

O, he's always freely giving of the 
things that make us tired, and he's 



82 



"l^^ 



often pretty stingfy witk tne things 
that are desired ; he might hring a 
ray of sunlight to a life that's sad and 
drear, if he'd give the absent treat- 
ment to the heartsick editeer. 



83 



THE SLEEPER WAKES 

DERHAPS youVe teard of old 
*• Tom Tinkle, wko went to sleep 
like Rip Van Winkle, and slept for 
tkirty years ; te woke tlie other day, 
and gSLZing around him on the sights 
amazingf, his soul was filled with 
fears. 

*'What w^orld is this?^* he asked, in 
terror; ^^w^hat life, of which Fm now 
a sharer? What glote do w^e infest? 
Oh, is it Saturn, Mars or Venus? 
How many planets are between us 
and good old Mother Earth? What 
mighty bird is that a-soaring — I 
seem to hear its pinions roaring, it 
scoots along so fast? Old Earth, 
w^ith all her varied features, had 
no such big, outlandish creatures 
around, from first to last. 

**It is an airship, Thomas Tinkle," 
I answ^ered him; ^'^a modern w^rinkle, 
just one of many score which were 
by scientists invented to make the 
people more contented since you be-* 
gan to snore/' 



84 




TKe Sleeper Wakes 



I told kim oi tKe wireless sys-* 
tern and other wonders — Le had 
missed ^em, since he was sound 
asleep; of submarines which sink 
and travel serenely o^er the mud 
and gravel heneath the raging deep. 

*You can t convince me/^ said the 
w^aker, *^that \is the earth — you are 
a faker, and deal in fairy tales; no 
man could soar away up yonder, 
like some blamed albatross or con*-' 
dor on metal wings or sails. And as 
for sending long dispatches from 
Buffalo clear down to Natchez, the 
same not being wired, if that^s done 
here it^s not the planet w^hereon I 
lived when mortals ran it; your 
stories make me tired. But w^hat 
are these rip-'Snorting w^agons? We 
must be in the land of dragons! I 
never saw the like ! So riotously are 
they scooting, so w^ildly are they 
callyhooting they fairly burn the 
pike! 

I told him they were merely autos 
whose drivers lived up to their mot* 
toes that speed laws are in vain ; and 



t7 



i 



otter miracles amazing with delicate 
and pointed phrasing I started to 
explain. ^ I told of triumphs most 
astounding, of things which should 
be quite confounding to resurrected 
men ; but in the middle of my soaring 
I heard old Thomas Tinkle snoring 
— ^he^d gone to sleep again. 



\ ;^ 



88 



•^,a.,.^.-.->*... -^,,^, 



A 



IN HORSELAND 

WELL-FED horse drove into 

town, behind a span of ancient 

men, whose knees were sore from 

faUin^ dow^n and striving to gfet up 

i again ; their poor old ribs were bare 
of meat, and they had sores upon 
their necks; there w^asn\, on the 

f village street, a tougher looking 

I pair of w^recks. And so they sham-^ 
bled up the street, a spectre har-- 

: nessed with a ghost; the horse 
descended from his seat, and left 

{ them standing by a post. And there 
they stood through half the night, 
and shook and shivered in the tugs, 
the while their master, in delight, 
was shaking dice with other plugs. 
And there they died, of grief and 
cold — no more they'll haul the heavy 
plow; their master said, when he 
was told : **They cost blamed little, 
anyhow!'* 




89 



> 



INAUGURATION DAY, 1913 

XTOW ' Washington is swarming 
^ ^ witk men of sterling w^orth, all 
bent upon reforming tke heaven and 
tke eartk ; they come from far Savan-» 
nah, they come from Texarkana, 
and points in Indiana, w^ith loud yet 
seemly mirth. TheyVe come from 
far Alaska, where show is heaped 
on snow; theyVe journeyed from 
Nebraska where commoners do 
grow; the famed, the wise, the witty, 
the timid, and the gritty have come 
from Kansas City and also Broken 
Bow* Their battle shout is thrilling 
as they go marching by, and every 
man is willing at once to bleed and 
die; to guarantee this nation a £ne 
Administration he^d take a situation 
or kill himself w^ith pie. The editors 
of journals are marching in the 
throng; and old and war-worn col- 
onels are teetering along ; and friends 
of Andrew Jackson and Jefferson, 
now^ waxin a trifle old, are taxin' 
their dusty throats with song. No 



90 



wonder Woodrow Wilson, as tliis 
great crowd appears, his silken 'ker- 
cliief spills on some proud and grate* 
ful tears ; tlie ranks oi colonels face 
Lim — suck loyalty must brace him, 
and from dejection cKase liim in 
future pregnant years* No office 
need go hegging before tbis migbty 
bost; be need not go a-legging for 
masters of tbe post ; be bas to do no 
pleading; tbey bring tbe belp be^s 
needing; of dying and of bleeding 
tbey make a modest boast. And so 
be view^s tbe strangers from Mary- 
land and Maine, tbe tall, bewbis- 
kered grangers wbo till tbe Western 
plain; tbe men from desks and 
foyers, tbe sbeepmen and tbe saw-* 
yers, tbe lumberjacks and lawyers, 
all come to ease tbe strain ; be views 
tbe dusty millers from Minnesota 
land; tbe sbining social pillars from 
Boston^s sacred strand; tbe men of 
bill and valley around bis standard 
rally ( and on tbe snaps keep tally) , 
eacb witb a belping band. **My 
fears are in tbe distance,^^ is Wood** 



91 



row^s gfrateful song; **w^Iiat foe can 
make resistance against tkis mighty 
throng? So let us, lawyer, farmer, 
ex'^plute, and social charmer, gird 
on our snow'-'white armor« and para« 
lyze each wrong !^ 



^ 



92 



PRAYER OF THE HEATHEN 

DEFORE a wooden idol two liea-» 
*-' then knelt and prayed; it was 
their day of bridal, the savage and 
the maid. "^We two have come to^ 
gether, to journey through the years, 
in calm and stormy w^eather, in sun- 
shine and in tears. O idol most 
exalted, protect us on our way, and 
may our feet he halted from going 
far astray. This maid/^ the bride-' 
groom muttered, *'^is fresh from Na-* 
ture^s hands; her boudoir is not 
cluttered w^ith strings and pins and 
bands; she does not paint her fea^-* 
tures, or wear rings on her paws; 
she^s one of Nature^s creatures, and 
lives by Nature's laws. Her foot, 
she does not force it into a misfit 
I shoe ; nor does she wear a corset to 
; squeeze her frame m two. That 

frame has got upon it no clothes she 
does not need; she w^ears no bug-* 
I house bonnet that makes man^s 

bosom bleed. This maid, this 
weaker vessel, nas movements swi£t 



I 



} 

93 



*?>^^'*'_l 



and free, and she can run and 
ivrestle, and ske can climb a tree. 
And ii she shows a yearning to 
emulate the whites, our good old 
customs spurning, pursuing vain de^* 
lights, O idol stern and oaken, take 
thou thy sceptre dread, and may the 
same be broken upon her silly head/^ 

**This bridegroom,** said the 
maiden, ^^untutored is and rude, but 
still he is not laden with habits vain 
and lewd. I hope to see him trundle 
each evening to his kraal, and not 
blow in his bundle for long cold 
pints of ale. With my consent hell 
never get next the slot machine, or 
use his best endeavor to burn up 
gasoline. No tailor hath arrayed 
him, no valet hath defaced! lie 
stands as Nature made him, broad-^ 
chested, slim of waist! And he can 
swim the Niger, or rob a lion^s lair, 
or w^hip a full-grown tiger at Reno 
or elsewhere! And if he would 
abandon our simple heathen ways, 
and learn to place his hand on some 
foolish w^hite men^s craze, O idol, in 



94 



.^^* 



your dudgeon, otey his bride's be- 
I best! Take up your bi^ spiked t 

bludgeon, and swat Kim galley 
westT* 



95 



THEORY AND PRACTICE 



^IkM 



4f 



IN putlic I talk of Milton and give 
"^ him ecstatic praise, and say that I 
love to ponder for kours o^er his liv- 
ing lays; I speak of his noble epic, 
that jewel which proudly shines, and 
quote from his splendid sonnets ( I 
know maybe twenty lines) ; but 
when I am home John Milton is left 
on the bookcase shelf; he's rather 
too dull for reading — ^you know^ how 
it is yourself; to lighten the weight 
of sorrow that over my spirit hangs, 
I dig up the w^orks of Irwin or Nes-' 
bit or Kendrick Bangs. 

I talk much of Thomas Hardy 
w^hen I^m with the cultured crowd, 
and say that few modern w^riters so 
richly have been endowed ; I speak 
of his subtle treatment of life and 
its grim distress, and quote from 
*'The Trumpet Major'' or spiel a few 
lines from *'Tess." But w^hen I am 
in my chamber, w^here no one can 
see me read, remote from the high- 
brow people and all that the high- 



HMH)KMM*«ntl 



lilflHW 



1 



96 



trows need, I never have known a 
longing to reach for the Hardy 
tomes; I put in a joyous evening 
with Watson and Sherlock Holmes. 

I talk a good deal of Wagner in 
parlor and drawing room, and speak 
of the gorgeous fabrics he wove on 
his wondrous loom, the fabrics of 
sound and beauty, the w^onderful 
scroll of tone, and say that this 
mighty genius remains in a class 
alone. I whisde ^''The Pilgrims' 
Chorus,** and chortle of ^Xohen-* 
grin,** and say that all other music 
IS merely a venial sin. But when at 
my ow^n piano Susannah sits down 
to play, I beg her to cut out Wagner 
and shoo all his noise aw^ay. '""I'm 
weary and worn and beaten; my 
spirits, I say, ^'are low; so give us 
some helpful music — a few bars of 
'Jungle Joe ! 



I 



i4 %% 



97 



r't'*'-j.sY^.*l'**^'''>^'>*:^>:"!^4»v**'.'*'-'*'*'***W*'''^'^''^^*'«'^V.J& 



'""''■•!!-'? 'V»i^j7>r«i« ":■»>?"■'■• ■ 



■"-^ 



FOOL AND SAGE 

I 'HE ' fool and his money are 
■■• parted, not long did tkey stay in 
cakoots; but the fool is the cheer^ 
iest-'hearted and gladdest of human 
galoots. His neighbor is better and 
wiser, six £gures nciight tell what 
he's worth; but O how folks wish 
the old miser w^ould fall off the edge 
of the earth ! 



""'"'"' II I "''*' ""***'**T ii nTii i ii i i«Bi i in'iiwr'^^ 

98 









THEN AND NOW 

IN olden times tke gifted bard 
* found life a pathway rough and 
hard. Starvation often was his 
goad, and some dark garret his 
abode, and there, when nights w^ere 
long and chill, he sadly plied his 
creaking quill. He w^rote of shep-* 
herds and their crooks, of verdant 
vales and Dabbling brooks, display-^ 
ing artfully his lore — while bailiffs 
threatened at the door. And hav-' 
ing wrought his best, he took w^ith 
trembling hands his little book to 
lay before some haughty lord, and 
cringe around for a reward. Some 
times, perchance, he got a purse ; 
anon he only drew a curse ; and 
often in a prison yard the w^eary, 
debt-incumbered bard w^as herded 
with the squalid throng, and damned 
the shining peaks of song. 

The world moves on. The bard 
today finds life a soft and easy 
way. If he elects to cut his hair 
he has the price and some to spare. 




99 



Attired in purple, he gfoes by with 
Iiard boiled skirt and scrambled tie, 
and yoi:^ can bear bis bullion clank 
as be goes prancing to tbe bank. 
He writes no tame, insipid books of 
dairy maids or sbepberds* crooks, 
of singing birds or burbling streams, 
or any otber worn ^ out tbemes. 
Anon be toucbes up bis lyre to 
boost a patent rubber tire, or sings 
a noble song tbat tbrills concerning 
someone's beeswax pills. His lyre's 
a wonder to bebold ; its frame is 
pearl, its strings are gold* His 
sbeetiron laurels never fade; tbe 
grocer's glad to get bis trade* Wbile 
be can make tbe muses sw^eat be il 
never go to jail for debt. 

He calmly puts bis barp away, 
wben be bas toiled a lO-bour day, 
and softly sigbs: *'Tbere's notbing 
wrong witb tbis old graft of deatb** 
less song!'* 



100 



THE SLEEPER 

nPHEY Lave planted him deep in a 
^ grave by the fence, where the 
sandhurs are thick and the jiinson 
IS dense; he^s sleeping at last, and 
as still as a mouse, held down by a 
boulder as big as a house, and the 
whangdoodle mourns in a neigh*^ 
boring tree, with a voice that^s as 
sad as the sorrowing sea. They 
have planted him deep in the silt 
and the sand, with appropriate airs 
by the fife and drum band, and they 
joyfully yell w^hen the sad rites are 
o'er: **Gosh ding him, he's taking 
his straw votes no more. 



lai 



,j«,!«™-li=.iHUH'*»«WW>ll<4t*«»'^ 



i- 



.i 



FOOLING AROUND 



QLD GRIGGINS tke grocer. Las | 
^^ gfone to the dump, and people I 
-who knew mm say he was a chump ; | 
his prospects w^ere fine when he 
opened his store, and customers | 
brought him their buUion and ore, 
and bought his potatoes and pump-* | 
kins and peas, his milk and molasses, 
his chicory, cheese. But soon they 
w^ent elsewhere to blow in their 
plunks, for Griggins turned out such 
a foolish old hunks ; w^hile others 
were rustling for shilling and pound, 
old Griggins the grocer kept fooling 
around. 

He stood in the alley and ranted 
and tore, debating the tariff w^ith 
some one next door ; he roasted the 
tariff on spigots and spoons w^hile. 
customers w^aited to purchase some 
prunes; he argued that congress is 
out for the pelf, and left his trade 
palace to wait on itself. And pa- 
trons got huffy, their molars they 



102 



grouncl, wliile Grigfgms the grocer 
was fooling around. 

Old Griggins kept cases on sprint- 
ers and pugs, and talked of their 
records, while people w^ith jugs w^ere 
w^ishmg he d fill them w^ith syrup or 
oil, and cut out his yarns, which w^ere 
starting to spoil; he'd talk atout 
Jeffries or Johnsmg or Gotch for 
forty-five minutes or more ty the 
watch, while customers jingled their 
coin m his store, and waited and 
w^aited, and sw^eated and swore. At 
last they would leave his old joint 
on the bound, w^hile Griggins the 
grocer was fooling around. 

The man who would w^in in these 
strenuous days must tend to his 
knitting in forty-five ways, be eager 
and hustling, with vim all athrob, his 
mind not afield, but intent on his job. 
The sheriff v/iU come w^ith his horse 
and his hound to talk w^ith the man 
w^ho keeps fooling around. 



% 



\ 



103 



GUESS WHO! 

LIE is' the press and tlie people, 
* * the sultan who rules the Turks ; 
he is the hell in the steeple, and he 
is the whole hlamed w^orks. He is 
the hill and valley, the dawning, the 
dusk, the moon ; he is the large white 
alley, he is the man in the moon. 
He 13 the soothing slumber, he is the 
soul awake, he is the big cu* 
cumber, that gives us the belly-- 
ache. He is the £re that quickens, 
the company that insures ; he is 
the ill that sickens, and he is 
the thing that cures. He is the rul-* 
ing Russian, and we are the grovel- 
ing skates; he is the constitution, 
and he^s the United States. 



164 



TRYING AGAIN 

XTO boarding Kouse, tavern or inn 
^ ^ was in si^lit; so into a cavern 
went Bruce, in sore pligkt. By 
enemies hunted, a price on his head, 
and all his schemes shunted, he 
w^ished he was dead. **In vain my 
endeavor, repulsed my demands; 
FU try again never — I throw up my 
hands !^* And so he lay sigfhing and 
cussing his fate, and wished he w^as 
lying stone dead in a crate. A spider 
was spinning its wet by the wall; 
now losing, now^ w^innmg, now taking 
a fall; though often it tumbled, it 
breathed not a sob, nor crawfished 
nor grumbled, but stuck to its job. 
Then Bruce opened wider his eyes 
and exclaimed : * l hat dodgasted 
spider has made me ashamed! I^m 
but a four-flusher to sit here and 
whine ! This morning must usher in 
triumptsofinmer 

He canned all his wailing and cut 
out the frown, and went forth 
a-smiling, and won a large crown ! 



log 



And legions of fellow^s with tears 
in tkeir eyes, \vIio wear out tkeir 
bellows "With groaning and sighs ^ 
who think they are goners, ordained 
to the dump, w^ould harvest some 
honors if they w^ould just hump! 
The spiders are teaching, the same 
as of old; the spiders are preaching 
a gospel of gold: ''Though baffled 
and broken, O children of men, let 
grief be unspoken — go at it again !'' 



I 



» 



106 



*m0f 



MM 



ICONOCLASM 



) 



ly^ING SKEPTIC wears his tnoclern 
"■■^ crown, his stern, destructive 
law prevails ; he s tearing all our 
idols down, disprovmgf all our f av rite 
tales. Is there a legend you hold 
dear, some legend of the long ago? 
King Skeptic hears it w^ith a sneer, 
and digs up history to show^ that 
things of that sort never chanced, 
and never could, and never w^iU. 
*'^We have,^' he says, /*^so much ad-* 
vanced, that fairy tales don^t fill the 
till. No faked-up tales of knightly 
acts, no Robin Hood romance for 
me ; the only things w^orth while are 
Facts, Statistics, and the Rule of 
Three. 

With diagrams he shows full w^ell 
that old-time tales are things to 
scorn; that such a man as William 
Tell, in liklihood, w^as never born. 
If Gessler lived and had a hat, he 
didn't hang it on a pole ; the rules of 
Euclid show us that — so goes King 
Skeptic's rigmarole. But, granting 



107 



i 



that Ke Kad a lid, and Kung it on a 
pole awhile, and granting tnat the 
people did bow down to reverence 
that tile, this does not prove that 
William shot an apple through an 
applets core, and so the anecdote is 
rot — ^don't let us hear it any more. 

One-eyed Horatius never held the 
bridge beside his comrades bold, 
while Sextus and his loemen yelled 
— because there was no bridge to 
hold. With Fact King Skeptic 
pounds your head, and prods you 
with it to the hilt, and shows Hor- 
atius had been dead ten years before 
the bridge was built. *^He fell not 
in the Tiber^s foam, performed no 
feats of arms sublime. I know! 
The city clerk of Rome sent me the 
records of that time !^* 

Mazeppa^s ride w^as all a ]oke, as 
all the statisticians know; the horse 
he rode was city broke, and stopped 
w^hene'er he whispered **w^hoa.** 
Most luckily, the village vet wrote 
down the facts with rugged power; 



16S 



Mazeppa simply made a bet tlie 
Lorse could go three miles an hour; 
he wasn^t strapped upon its back, no 
perils dire did him befall; he rode 
around a kite^shaped track, and lost 
his bet, and that was all. 

And so it goes; you can*t relate a 
legend oi heroic acts but that the 
Skeptic then will state objections 
based on Deadly Facts. Romance 
is but a total loss, and all the joy oi 
life departs; weVe nothing left but 
Charlie Ross, and he'll turn up, to 
break our hearts. 



109 



f 



4 



GATHERING ROSES ^ 



I^VE gatkered roses and the like, 
•* in many glad and golclen Junes; 
but now, as down the w^orld I hike, 
my weary hands are filled with 
prunes. I ve gathered roses o*er 
and o^er^ and some were w^hite, and 
some were red ; but w^hen I took 
them to the store, the grocer w^anted 
eggs instead. I gathered roses long 
ago, in other days, in other scenes; 
and people said : ^ You ought to gOn 
and dig the weeds out of your 
beans/* A million roses bloomed 
and died, a million more will die 
today; that man is w^ise who lets 
them slide, and gathers up the bales 
of hay. 



■MMaWMMMHlMlM 

110 



THE FUTURE SPORT 

THE airskip is a tning acnieved; 
it has its rightful place, as well 
as any autocart that ever ran a race. 
The farmer, m the coming years, 
when eggs to town he brings, w^iU 
flop along above the trees, upon his 
rusty w^ings. The doctor, w^hen he 
has a call, from patients far or near, 
w^ill quickly strap his pinions on, and 
hit the atmosphere. And airship 
racing then will be the sport to please 
the crowds ; there^U be racecourses 
overhead, and grandstands in the 
clouds. The umpire, on his patent 
wings, will hover here and there ; 
f the fans, with rented parachutes, 

will prance along the air; the joyous 
shrieks of flying sports w^iU keep the 
welkin hot, and soaring cops w^iU 
blithely chase the scorching aero-' 
naut. We'll soon be living overhead, 
our families and all; and then we^U 
only need the earth to land on when 
we fall. 

i o 

ill 



TAKING ADVICE 

A FORTY-FOOT constrictor once 
*"^ was swallowing a ^oslU and hav- 
ing lots of trouble, for the horns 
stuck in his throat. And then a wart-* 
hog came along, and said : *'Oh, fool- 
ish snake! To swallow all your 
victuals whole is surely a mistake. 
It puts your stomach out of plumb, 
your liver out of whack, and gives you 
all the symptoms in the latest al- 
manac. If serpents for abundant 
health w^ould have a fair renown, 
theyll chew a mouthful half an 
hour before they take it down. Eat 
slowly, w^ith a tranquil mind and 
heart serene beneath, and always 
use a finger bowl, and always pick 
your teeth. Vm reading up Woods 
Hutchinson and Fletcher and those 
guys, and following the rules they 
make, which are extremely wise, 
and oh, it pains me to the quick, 
and jars my shrinking soul, to see 
a foolish snake like you absorbing 
dinners whole!' 



112 



4 



The serpent got Kis dinner down, 
with w^hiskers, horns and feet, then 
slept three weeks; then looked 
around for something more to eat. 
And, having killed a jabberw^ock, 
and found it lat and nice, he thought 
he'd eat according to the w^arthog's 
sage advice. 

Ah, never more that snake is seen 
upon his native heath! The little 
serpents tell the tale of how he 
starved to death ! 

Moral: 

The counsel of the great may help 
the man next door, ^tis true, and 
yet turn out to be a frost when 
followed up by you. 



113 



POST-MORTEM INDUSTRY f 



YOU'VE heard of Ridiard RanJle 

* Rox? He died ; tkey put kim in 

a box, and lowered kim into a grave, 

and said: **He^ll surely now be- 

I liave* 

I For years tbis fertile Ricbard 

I penned books, rnymes and essays 

I without end. His belpful, moral 

dope w^as seen in every uplift magfa- 

I zme, and people used to w^onder bow 

I tbe wbeels w^itbm tbat bulging brow^ 

produced sucb countless bales of 

tbougbt, sucb w^ondrous wealth of 

I tomyrot; and folks cbewed cloves 

I and cotton waste to try to take 

I away tbe taste. 

I At last be died before bis time — 

killed off by an ingrowing rbyme. 
Tbe mourners laid bim on bis pall, 
bis tbree assorted names and all, 
\ and said: ""Doggone bim! Now 

bell stop tbis tbmg of w^ritmg belp- 
ful slop.^' He got tbe finest grave 
in town, and marble things to hold 
him down. 



114 




Lon^ years kave passed since P 
R. R. Rox was placed m silver^ J 
mounted box; and does he rest in 
peace? Instead, he s working harder 
now he's dead. New^ books are 
coming from his pen until the clias-' 
tened sons of men look round, their 
eyelids red w^ith grief — ^look round, 
imploring for relief. ^''Is there no 
way/' so wails the host, ''"to lay this 
Richard Randle's ghost?'' 



115 



THE CONQUEROR 

Tke pugilist, tall and majestic, 
and proud of his numerous scars, 
was telling of foreign, domestic, and 
all kinds of Homeric wars. His 
kearers were standing before him in 
attitudes speaking of awe, for what 
could they do but adore him, the 
man with the prognathous jaw? 

**My make-up,^' he said, **rather 
queer is, IVe never seen others 
that way; I simply don^t know^ w^hat 
a fear is ; I really rejoice in the fray, 
I guess I'm the champion glarer, my 
glance seems to wilt all my foes ; IVe 
seen fellows crumple w^ith terror 
before w^e had got down to blows. 
This made me so often the victor; 
no qualms in my bosom I feel; I 
don't fear a boa constrictor — my 
heart is an engine of steel/' 

And ao of his feats superhuman 
he talked in a voice ringing loud, 
until a small, fiery -^ eyed w^oman 
came elbowing up through the crowd. 



116 




QTlic Conqueror 



% 



Her voice, like her person, was 
spindling, but Hercules heard when 
she called : **Conie home, now, and 
cut up some kindling, or I w^iU be 
snatching you bald !'^ No more of 
his triumphs he lilted, like Spartacus 
spieling in Rome ; the steel hearted 
warrior wilted, and followed his con- 
querer home. 




119 



THE TRUTHFUL MERCHANT 

IF Ananias lived today and ran the 
* corner store, he couldn^t keep tke 
wolf away from his old creaking 
door. For men who spend their 
hard'^earned rocks won^t patronize 
the man who must forever, when he 
talks, make truth an also ran. 

I bought a whole new suit of 
clothes from Bilks, across the street. 
He said to me : *'Such rags as those 
just simply can\ be beat. They 
ornament the clothier^s trade, and 
eke the tailor^s shears; they w^ill 
not shrink, they will not fade, they'll 
last a hundred years. Go forth,'' 
said Bilks, *^'^upon the street, in all 
your pomp and pride, and every 
pretty girl you meet w^ill w^ish she 
w^as your bride." 

So I w^ent forth in brave array, 
the city's one best bet. There was 
a little shower that day, and I got 
slightly wet. And then the truth 
was driven in that my new rags 



120 



were punk. Alas, my friends, it was 
a sin the way tkose trousers skrunk ! 
The buttons from my w^aistcoat flew 
w^ith cluU and sickening crack; my 
coat soon changed from brow^^n to 
blue and then split up the hack. 

Old Bilks gold-hricked me in that 
deal, but does his system pay? 
He'll never get another w^heel from 
me till Judgment Day. The kopeck 
that you win by guile may swell 
your roll today, but in the clammy 
afterwhile it melts that roll away. ) 

{ 

I 
r 

I 



\ 



J 



i jimmnti lim ' i ui m f i ^m a >t i . .i i »»»«im*»M*>»«i>*i'^- - ■■'--■ 

121 



»>%»WI^W8W''« »gWkillM >» l ' ll i |IMJI»»" . ll '' '* '''' " "'* i^^ 



■^**»-fc^ 



STANDING PAT 



122 



^ 



V/OUR arguments for ra o d e r n 
* tkmgfs with me cannot avail ; my 
father reaped his grain by hand and 
thrashed it with a flail; then w^ho 
am I to strike new paths and buy | 

machinery? The methods good 
enough for dad are good enough \ 

for me! I want no hydrant by i 

my house — such doodads I won't | 

keep! My father drew the water | 
from a w^ell three furlongs deep, and 
skinned his hands and broke his 
back a-puUing at the rope, and I 

methods that my father used w^ill f 

do for me, I hope ! Don't talk of | 

your electric light; a candle's all ' 

I need; my father always went to 
bed w^hen tw^as too dark to read ; 
I w^ant no books or magazines to 
clutter up my shack; my father 
never read a thing but Johnson's 
almanac. A bathroom? Blowing 
wealth for that ridiculous appears; , 
my father never used to bathe, and 
lived for ninety years. I care not 



i 



i 



or your progress talk, reiorm 
or otker tricks; my father never 
used to vote or fuss with politics ; 
he never careJ three whoops in 
Troy which side should w^in or lose, 
and im content to go his gfait, and 
w^ear my father's shoes. 







123 



THE OUTCAST 

V/OU ask me why I weep and 
*- xnoan« like some lost spirit in 
despair, and w^ky I wonder ofi: 
alone, and paw^ tke ground and 
tear my kair? You ask me wky 
I pack tkis gun, all loaded up, 
prepared to skoot? Alas! my 
troubles kave begun — tke w^omen 
folk are canning fruit! Tkere is 
no place for me to eat, unless I 
eat upon tke floor; and peelings 
get beneatk my feet, and make me 
fall a block or more ; tke odors from 
tke boiling jam, all day assail my 
w^eary snoot; you find me, tken, 
tke w^reck I am — tke women folk 
are canning fruit! O, tkey kave 
peackes on tke ckairs, and moldy 
apples on tke floor, and wormy 
plums upon tke stairs, and piles 
of pears outside tke door; and tkey 
are boiling pulp and juice, and you 
may kear tkem yell and koot; a 
man^s existence is tke deuce — tke 
women folk are canning fruit! 



124 



r 



ODE TO KANSAS 

l^ANSAS: WLere weVe torn tLe 
shackles 

From the farmer^s leg; 
Kansas : Where the hen that cackles« 

Always lays an egg; 
Where the cows are fairly achin* 
To ^o on with record breakin\ 
And the hogs are raising bacon 

By the keg! 



125 



Mniwiiiwwwi" • 



• '^■^^'Ofrm uKt ■ . j ii MMW^- l 



DOMESTIC HAPPINESS 

IT is goocl to watch dear fatter as 
-^ lie tlithely skips along, on his 
face no sign of bother, on his lips a 
cheerful song; peeling spuds and 
scraping fishes, putting doilies on the 
chairs, sweeping floors and w^ashing 
dishes, busy with his household 
cares. Now the kitchen fire is burn-' 
mg; to get supper he w^ill start — 
mother soon will be returning from 
her labors m the mart. 

Poor tired mother! Daily toiling 
to provide our meat and bread ! 
Where the eager crowd is moiling, 
struggling on w^ith weary tread ! 
Battling w^ith stockjobbing ladies, 
meeting all their w^iles and tricks, 
or embarking m the Hades of the 
city's politics! But forgotten is the 
pother, all the w^ork day cares are 
gone, when she comes home to dear 
father w^ith his nice clean apron on ! 
1 here s your chair, he says ; sit 
in it; supper w^iU be cooked eft-» 
soons; I will dish it in a minute — 



-f 



126 



scramUecl eggs and snredclecl 
prunes/' It is good to watch him 
moving round the stove "with eager 
zeal, in his every action proving 
that his love goes with the meal. 

When the evening meal is eaten 
and the things are cleared aw^ay, 
then w^e sit around repeatm^ cares 
and triumphs of the day ; and the 
high resounding rafter echoes to our 
harmless jokes, to our buoyant peals 
of laughter, w^hile tired mother sits 
and smokes. Thus her jaded mind 
relaxes m an atmosphere so gay, and 
she thinks no more of taxes or of 
hills that she must pay; smiles are 
soon her face adorning, in our nets 
of love enmeshed, and she goes to 
work next morning like a giantess 
refreshed. 



127 



CELEBRITIES 

LIE had written lovely verses, 
* * touching hollyliocks and hears- 
es, lotus-heaters, ladies, lilies, porcu« 
pines and pi^s and pies, notkingf 
kuman w^as beyond him, and admir-* 
mg people conned him, adoration in 
their bosoms and a rapture in their 
eyes. He had sung of £gs and 
quinces in the tents oi Bedouin 
princes, he^d embalmed the Roman 
Forum and the Parthenon of Greece ; 
many of his odes were w^ritten in the 
shrouding fogs of Britain, w^hile he 
watched the suffrage ladies mixing 
things with the police. 

So we met to do him Konor; wor- 
shipper and eager fawner begged a 
tassel of his whiskers, or his auto- 
graph in ink; never w^as there so 
much sighin' round a pallid human 
lion, as he stood his lines explain- 
ing, taking out the hitch and kink! 

All were in a joyous flutter, till 
we heard some fellow mutter : Here 



128 



comes Grigf^s, tlie soutkpaw pitcher, 
fairly burdened with his fame ! He 
it was w^ho beat the Phillies — gave 
the Quaker bugfs the willies — he it 
was w^ho saved our bacon in that 
^leven-inning game ! 

Then we crowded round the pitch- 
er, making that great man the richer 
by a ton of adulation, in a red-hot 
fervor flung; and the poet, in a 
pickle, mused upon the false and 
fickle plaudits of the heartless rab- 
ble, till the dinner gong was rung ! 



r-' 



J 



129 



<&■ 



THE VIRTUOUS EDITOR 

I USE- my Trenchant, fertile pen to 
* kelp along the cause of men and 
make the sad world brighter, to 
give all good amtitions wings, to 
help the poor to better things and 
make their burdens lighter. The 
page whereon my screeds appear 
enjoys a sacred atmosphere ; it^s 
helpful and uplifting; it hands out 
morals by the ton, and shows the 
people how to shun the rocks to 
w^hich theyVe drifting. 

You say my other pages reek with 
filthy *''cures for cancer'? Im- 
pertinently, sir, you speak, and I 
refuse to answer. 

All causes good and true and pure, 
and everything that should endure 
Fm always found supporting; and 
in my lighter moments I to heights 
of inspiration fly, the soft -• eyed 
muses courting. To those w^ho 
wander far astray I, like a shepherd, 
point the way to paths and fields 
Elysian; iio sordid motives soil my 



130 



pen as I assist my fellow men, no 
meanness mars my vision. 

You say 1 print too many aas, unnt 
for youths^ perusal, of fakers' piUs 
and liver pads? I gave you one re-' 
fusal to argue that, so quit your fuss 
and cease your foolish chatter; it is 
beneath me to discuss a purely 
i business matter. 

I point out all the shabby tricks 
which now disgrace our politics, 
those tricks w^hich shame the devil; 
I ask the voters to deface corruption 
and our country place upon a higher 
level. Through endless w^astes of 
words I roam to make the Fireside 
and the Home the nation s shrine 
and glory; and Purity must ring 
again m every oiispring of my pen, 
in every screed and story. 

You say my paper isn't fit for 
aught but toughs and muckers? 
That all the fakers come to it w^hen 
they w^ould fleece the suckers? Your 
criticism takes the buns ! It's surely 
most surprising! You'll have to see 
the man w^ho runs the foreign adver-- 
tising. 



131 



THIS DISMAL AGE 

^^TT is a Iiumdlruin world/* he said, 
* ^^in wnicli "we now abide ! alas ! the 
^ood old times are dead w^hen brave 
knights used to ride to war upon 
their armored steeds; then blood-* 
shed was in style; then men could 
do heroic deeds« and life was worth 
the while. If I should go with lance 
and sword to enemy of mine — to one 
by whom IVe long been bored, and 
cleave him to the chine, there ^d be 
no plaudits long and loud, no w^reaths 
from ladies pale; the cops would 
seek me in a crowd, and hustle me 
to jail. If down the highway I 
should press, beneath the summer 
skies, to rescue damsels in distress 
and wipe their weeping eyes, Fd 
win no praises from the sports; 
they d call me a galoot ; Fd have to 
answer in the courts to breach-of- 
promise suit. Adventure is a thing 
that^s dead, weVe reached a low 
estate, and I was born, alas!'' he 
said, * nve hundred years too late/' 



132 



He took tne morning paper tken, 
{ wkich reeked witk thrillingf things, 
with tales of fightingf modern men; 
the strife of money kmgfs ; the eagfer, 
busy, human streams throughout 
this mundane hive ; the struggle of 
the hasehall teams, which for the 
pennant strive; the polar hero and 
his sled ; the race of motor cars ; the 
flight of aernauts overhead, outlined 
against the stars. 

*'It is a humdrum age/' he sighed, 
of avarice the fruit. Upon a steed 
Fd like to ride, and wear a cast iron 
suit, and live as lived the knights of 
old, the heroes of romance ; Fd like 
to carry spurs of gold and w^ield a 
sword and lance; but in this drear 
and pallid age, from Denver to Des 
Moines, there s naught to stir a 
noble rage — there's nothing counts 
but coin!'* 



133 



-'^i^ 



WtjK' 



BOOST THINGS 

F^ON'T sit supinely on your roost, 
•*-^ but come along and kelp us boost, 
for better things of every kind, and 
leave your kicking clothes behind. 
O let us boost for better streets, and 
softer beds, and longer sheets ; for 
smoother lawns and better lights, 
and shorter-winded blatherskites ; 
for finer homes, and larger trees, for 
bats and boots and bumble bees; 
for shorter hours and longer pay, 
and few^er thistles m our hay, for 
better grub, and bigger pies, for 
tw^o more moons to light the skies. 
And let the w^olves of w^ar be loosed 
on every man w^ho doesn^t boost! 



134 



MittI 



? 



THE ADVENTURER 

LJE KaJ traved tne hungry ocean 
•■' ^ wnen the same was m commo-' 
tion, he had floated on the wreckage 
of his tempest-shattered bark ; he 
had flirted m deep waters with the 
merman s w^ives and daughters, he 
had scrapped through seven sessions 
with a large man-eating shark* 

He had roamed in regions polar, 
where there s no erculgence solar, he 
had slam the festive walrus and the 
haughty arctic bear; and his w^atch- 
w^ord had been spoken m the w^astes 
by whites unbroken, and he shelled 
out many gumdrops to the natives 
living there. 

In the jungles, dark and fearful, 
w^here the tiger, fat and cheerful, 
gnaw^s the bones of foreign hunters, 
he had gone, unscathed, his w^ay; he 
had w^hipped a big constrictor, and 
emerged the smiling victor from a 
scrimmage w^ith a hippo, which w^as 
fond of deadly fray. 




135 



He was snot witk poisoned arrows 
and his tale of angfuish harrows up 
the bosom of the reader, hut he lived 
to journey home ; he was chased by 
wolves in Russia, thrown in prison 
cell in Prussia^ and was captured by 
fierce bandits in the neighborhood of 
Rome. He had lived where dwells 
the savage w^hose ambition is to rav- 
age and to fill his cozy w^igwam with 
a handsome line of scalps; he had 
lived w^ith desert races, sought the 
strange and distant places, he had 
stood upon the sunmniit of the lofti'* 
est of Alps. 

To his home at last returning, 
filled with sentimental yearning, 
**Now,'^ he cried, ^^farew^ell to danger 
— ^I have left its stormy track!'' Far 
from scenes of strife and riot he de-^ 
sired long years of quiet, but a cast-' 
ing from an airship fell three miles 
and broke his back. 



136 



THEY ALL COME BACK 



f 



'T'HE stars will come back to tke 
•* azure vault wnen tne clouds are 
all blown aw^ay; and the sun w^iU 
come back w^hen the night is done, 
and give us another day; the cows 
w^ill come hack from the meadows 
lush, and the birds to their trysting 
tree, but the money I paid to a 
mining shark w^iU never come back . 
to me ! The leaves w^ill come back k 
to the naked boughs, the flowers to 
the frosty brae ; the spring w^ill 
come back like a blooming bride, 
and the breezes that blow in May; 
and joy w^iU come back to the stricken 
heart, and laughter and hope and 
glee, but the money I ble^v for some 
mining stock will never come back 
to me! 



137 



-«*V^'Vt .--^ ''*'•':••'''» -~x<w^'.^"-'-«*=>'*>;<it^'^i^^^^^^ 



HOME BUILDERS 

/^LD Bullion has a stack of rich 
^^ things in his shack; of Persian 
rugs and antique jugs and costly 
bric-a-brac. There's art work in 
the hall, fine paintings on the wall; 
and yet a gloom as of the tomb is 
hanging over all. Here costly hooks 
abound. '^'This cost a thousand 
pound; that trade-mark blur means 
Elzivir — IVe nothing cheap around. 
Here's Venus in the foam; the 
statue came from Rome ; I bought 
the best the w^orld possessed w^hen 
I built up this home.'* Thus proudly 
Bullion talks, as through his home 
he walks, and tells the cost of 
things embossed, of vases, screens 
and crocks. No children's laughter 
rings, among those costly things ; 
no sounds of play by night or 
day; no happy housewife sings. 
For romping girl or boy might easily 
destroy a priceless jug, or stain a 
rug, and ruin Bullion's joy. The 
guests of Bullion yawn, impatient to 




e 



138 



mimtt 



be gone, afraid they'll mar some 
lacquered jar, or tread some fan 
upon. 

Down kere where Tiller dw^ells 
you hear triumphant yells of girls 
and boys who play w^ith toys, w^ith 
hoops and horns and bells. There 
are no costly screens ; no relics of 
dead queens; but on the stand, 
close to your hand, cheap books 
and magazines. There s no Egyp- 
tian crock, or painted jabberw^ock, 
but by the w^all there stands a tall 
and loud six-dollar clock. Old Tiller 
ca.n t impart much lore concerning 
art, or tell the price of virtu nice 
until he breaks your heart. But m 
his home abide those joys w^hich 
seem denied to stately halls upon 
w^hose w^alls are w^orks of pomp and 
pride. That pomp w^hich smothers 
joy, and chills a girl or boy, may 
have and hold the hue of gold, but 
it has base alloy. 



1 



139 



fr|»»f«>t'»>'*»''^ ""'•*** »>ti,>^i>Bi****-'-»'^-^-**t.-*«««»»»t 



FAILURE AND SUCCESS 




TTE \irars selling tacks and turnips 
•''''• in a gloomy corner store, and 
he never w^aslied Lis windo'ws and 
Ke never swept tLe floor, and te let 
the cobwebs gather on the ceiling 
and the walls, and he let his whisk-^ 
ers flourish till they brushed his 
overalls. So his customers forsook 
him — for his patrons w^ere not 
chumps — and the sheriff came and 
got him and that merchant bumped 
the bumps. 

J JE was selling hens and ham« 
* * mocks, as he^d done since days 
of youth, and he queered himself 
w^ith many, for he never told the 
truth. Oh, he thought it rather 
cunning if he sold a rooster old as a 
young and tender pullet through the 
artful lies he told; and he'd sell a 
shoddy hammock as a thing of silken 
thread, and the customer would bust 
it and fall out upon his head ; so his 
customers forsook him, and he sadly 



140 



watclied tliem flit, and the slieri^ 
came and gfot Kim, and that mer* 
cliant Lit the grit. 

LIE was sellingf slioes and sugfar — 
* -^ sugar from the sunny South — 
and he'd roast the opposition when 
he should have shut his mouth. He 
w^ould stand and rant and rumble 
by the hour of Mr. Tweet, who was 
sellingf shoes and sugar in the shack 
across the street; and he'd vow all 
kinds of vengeance, and he'd tell all 
kinds of tales, till his wearied patrons 
sometimes rose and smote him w^ith 
his scales; for they cared about his 
troubles and his sorrows not three 
w^hoops, and the sherifE came and 
got him, and that merchant looped 
the loops. 

T TH was selling books and bees-' 
■*' *• w^ax, and his store w^as neat 
and clean, and the place was bright 
and cheerful, and the atmosphere 
serene. He w^as tidy in his person, 
and his clerks were much the same. 



141 



/■'■•" 



-".V»* +»■'•» ??»)*-jlMr-».^- 



I 



li 



and no precious time was wasted in 
the tiresome knocking game. And 
the customer who entered w^as w^ith 
courtesy received, and he felt quite 
proud and happy when of cash he 
w^as reneved. And the merchant's 
w^ord was golden, what he said w^as 
always true, and he sold no moldy 
beeswax, saying it was good as new. 
And his trade kept on increasing till 
his bank account was fat, and the 
sheriff, w^hen he met him, aWays i 

bow^ed and tipped his hat. ^ 



142 



r 



■V^^4».«t7-^»---- •-«-lW»,j,^.V-"^^»»^-'«^--'»P*>-'i-.'''h.--.-'/r(.-.'WX.^li.^-'> "'•'■■ -'-"»,^i*i- 



I 



THE OPEN ROAD 



R 



omance 



I ^O walk again tke open road I 
** have a springtime longing; I 
yearn to leave my town abode, the 
jostling and the thronging, and 
tread again the quiet lanes, among 
the woodland creatures; w^here birds 
are singing joyous strains to beat 
the music teachers. Afar from 
honks of motor cars, and all the 
city's clamor, Fd like to sleep 
beneath the stars, and feel no 
katzen jammer when in the vernal 
daw^n I w^ake, as chipper as the 
foxes, to eat my frugal oatmeal cake 
put up in paper boxes, I fain would 
revel in the breeze that blow^s across 
the clover, and drink from brooks, 
with stately trees, like Druids, bend- 
ing over. I'd leave the pavement 
and the wall, the too persistent 
neighbor, and hear the rooster's 
early call that wakes the world to 
labor. I'd seek the hayfields whose 
perfume the jaded heart doth 



143 



nourisli. Yd go wkere wayside roses 
bloom and jolinny-juinp-'ups flourisk. 
I'd see^ the pasture flecked witk 
sKeep and mule and colt and heifer, 
and let my spirit lie asleep upon the 
twilight zephyr. Oh, town, I leave 
you for a w^eek, your burdens and 
your duties! The country calls me 
- — I must seek its glories and its 
beauties ! 

Reality 

^^ EE whiz ! Fd give a million 
^-*' bones to be back home a-'sleep- 
ing ! My shoes are full of burs and 
stones, and I am tired of weeping. 
Last night I sought a stack of hay, 
w^here slumber's fetters bound me, 
and at the cold, bleak break of day 
a husky farmer found me. I tried 
to pacify his nibs w^hen he stood 
there and blessed me; alas, his 
pitchfork smote my ribs, his cow-* 
hide shoes caressed me. The 
dogs throughout this countryside 
all seem to think they need me; 
theyVe gathered samples of my 



144 



hide, and many times tKeyVe 
treed me. And wken I roamed tke 
woodland path to see the ^vild-^ 
flowers' tinting, a bull pursued me 
in its wrath and broke all records 
sprinting. At noontide I sat down 
to rest, and rose depressed and 
dizzy; I'd sat upon a hornet's nest, 
and all the birds got busy. My 
w^hiskers now are full of hay, my 
legs are lame and weary; it's been 
a-rainmg every day, and all the 
w^orld is dreary. The road will do 
for those who like a pathway rough 
and gritty; I've had enough — just 
w^atch me hike back to the good old 
city. 



145 




' I 'riEY like to make the people 
i think tliat all their piles of yeU 
low^ chink, are weary burdens, to be 
borne, witb eyes that weep and 
hearts that mourn; but as you jog 
along the road, you see no million-* 
aires unload. They like to talk and 
drone and drool, to grow^ing youths 
m Sunday school, and tell them that 
the poor man^s lot is just the thing 
that hits the spot; to w^arn them oi 
ambition^s goad — ^they talk, and talk, 
but don't unload. They like to talk 
of days long gone, when life for them 
was at its dawn, and they were poor 
and bent with toil, and drew^ their 
I living from the soil, and lived in 

I some obscure abode — and so they 

I dream, but don't unload. They like 
I to take a check in hand, and, headed 

I by the village band, present it to 

some charity — 'twould mean five 
I cents to you or me ; then they're em- 

I balmed in song and ode ; they smirk 
I and smile, but don't unload. 



146 






LITTLE MISTAKES 

I USED to trade at Grocer Gregg's 
and paid kim heaps of cash for 
flour and cheese and germ-proof 
Gggs^ and cans of succotash. But 
now^ he doesn't get my trade — that's 
>vhy his bosom aches ; I had to quit 
him, for he made so many small 
mistakes. 

He'd send me stale and "wilted 
greens when I had ordered fresh; 
he's send me gutta percha heans, 
all string and little flesh. And w^hen 
I journeyed to his store to read the 
riot act, three score apologies or 
more he'd offer for the fact. That 
doggone clerk of his, he'd say, had 
got the order wrong; and always, in 
the same old way, he'd sing the same 
old song. He seemed to think apol** 
ogies were all I should desire, when 
he had sent me moldy cheese or her** 
rings made of wire. 

And when his bill came in, by 
jings, it always made me hot; he'd 



147 



t.'- 






have me ckargfecl with clivers things 
I knew I never bought. Then I 
wouldxall on Grocer Greggf in wrath 
and discontent, and seize him firmly 
by the leg and ask him what he 
meant. Then grief w^as in the gro- 
cer^s looks, frowns came, his eyes 
betwixt; **The idiot who keeps my 
books, ^* he^d say, *'has got things 
mixed. I wouldn^ have such breaks 
as these for forty million yen ; I offer 
my apologies and hope you'll come 
again. 

He'd often send the things I bought 
to Colonel Jones, up town, and I 
would get a bunch of rot that should 
have gone to Brown. And oft at 
home I'd wait and w^ait, in vain for 
Sweitzer cheese ; instead of that I'd 
get a crate of codnsh, prunes or peas. 
And then I'd go to Grocer Gregg, 
and mutter as I went; ^'^I'U take that 
merchant down a peg, and in him 
make a dent." He'd spring the same 
old platitudes w^hen I had reached 
his den : **That vampire w^ho delivers 
goods has balled things up again." 



148 



J 



1gtlf^\A,'U^'. 



Li 



Apologies are good enough, ex- 
cuses are tke same ; but forty-^seven 
are enough to tire one of that game. 
It^s Letter far to shun mistakes, and 
do things right at first, than to ex-« 
plain your dizzy breaks till your suS" 
penders hurst. 



■■rirviTi i<MTifWf^~^~»r*~- ir'aTTTr^"'"^''^''*""— MriiiMiiM ii.'"''^~~li*ii mjih Mn> 



\ 



149 



'■" •i-i,v>:,v>*<S*- »v*' (-w?.-K.r.>*-.% 






EASY MORALITY 

VST/HEN tilings are moving slick as 
^^ grease, it's easy to be moral 
then, to wear a gentle smile of peace, 
and talk about good will to men. 
Sucn virtue doesn't greatly weigh, 
in making up the hooks of life; the 
man who cheerful is and gay, in 
times of sorrow and of strife, is bet-» 
ter worth a word of praise, than all 
the gents of smiling mien, w^ho 
swear in forty different w^ays when 
life has ceased to be serene. This 
morning, as I ambled down, a neigh- 
bor fell ( the walk was slick) and slid 
half-w^ay across the tow^n, and land-- 
ed on a pile of brick. He slid along 
at such a rate the ice w^as melted as 
he went ; his shins were barked, and 
on his pate there w^as a large un-* 
sightly dent. And w^hen he'd breath 
enough to talk, he didn't cave around 
and sw^ear, or blank the blanked old 
icy walk ; he merely cried : * Well, 
I declare!'^ 



f 



150 



THE CRITIC 

OOME years ago I wrote a book, 
*^ and no one read it save myself; 
it occupies a dusty nook, all sad and 
lonesome, on the shelf. And having 
found I couldn^t write such stories as 
w^ould please the mot, I sternly said, 
**F11 wreak my spite on those who 
can hold down the jot/* So now I 
sit in gloomy state and roast an 
author every day, and show^ he s a 
misguided skate who should te tusy 
taling hay. The people read me as 
I cook my victims, and exclaim with 
glee, **If he w^ould only w^rite a took, 
oh where would Scott and Dickens 
be?" 

I used to think that I could sing, 
tut w^hen a few sw^eet trills Fd shed, 
the people w^ould arise and fling dead 
cats and cattage at my head. Then, 
realizing that my throat w^as modeled 
on the foghorn plan, I said, '^'^If I 
can^t sing a note, FU surely roast the 
folks who can! I go to concerts 
and look wise, and shudder as in 



1 



151 



misery ; in vain the prima donna 
tries to win approving smiles from 
me ; in vain the tenor or the bass, to 
gain from me admiring looks, pours 
floods of music through his face — ^I 
squirm as though on tenderhooks. 
And people watch my curves and 
sigh: **He has it all by heart, by 
jing ! What melody would reach the 
sky if he would but consent to sing !' 

When I was young I painted signs, 
but not a soul my work w^ould buy, 
for all my figures and my lines were 
out of drawing and awry. And so I 
said: ^^It breaks my heart that I 
can^t sell a single sign ; but in the 
noble realms of art as critic I shall 
surely shine !'* And so I grew a Van-^ 
dyke beard, and let my hair grow 
long as grass, and studied up a jar^' 
gon weird, and learned to wear a 
single glass. Then to the galleries 
I went and looked at paintings with 
a frown, and wept in dismal discon^* 
tent that art^s so crushed and beaten 
down. And people foUow^ed in my 
tracks to ascertain my point of view ; 



152 



w^Lenever I applied the ax they gfaily 
swxing the cleaver, too. And often, 
through a solemn hush. Yd hear my 
rapt admirers say: **If he w^ould 
only use the brush, Mike Angelo 
would fade away!'^ 



163 




THE OLD TIMER 

V/OU'VE built up quite a city here, 
•*- with stately business blocks, and 
wires a-runningf far and near, and 
handsome concrete w^alks. The trol-' 
ley cars gfo w^hizzin^ by, and smoke 
from noisy mills is trailing slowly to 
the sky, and blotting out the hills. 
And thirty years ago I stood upon 
this same old mound, with not a house 
of brick or wood for twenty miles 
around! I'm mighty glad to be 
alive, to see the change youVe made ; 
it's good to watch this human hive, 
and hear the hum of trade ! 

I ust to the moans and wails 
Of your town, with its toiling 
hands. 

But O for the lonely trails 

That led to the unknown lands ! 

I used to camp right where we 
stand, among these motor cars, and 
silence brooded o'er the land, as I 
lay ^neath the stars, save when the 
drowsy cattle lowed, or w^hen a 



I 



i 



154 




The Old Timer 



ff 



bronclio neighed ; and now you have 
an asphalt road, and palaces of 
trade ! We hear the clamor of the 
host on every wind that blow^s, when 
people take the time to hoast of 
how their city grows! I do not 
doubt that you w^ill rise to greater 
heights of fame, and mayhe paint 
across the skies your city's lustrous 
name ! 

I list to the ceaseless tramp 
Of the host, with its hopes and 
fears ; 
But O for the midnight camp 
And the sound of the milling 
steers ! 



157 



f 



THE BRIGHT FACE 

nPHINGS are moving slowly? Busi- 
* ness seems unholy? Better 
tilings are comings tkougK tliey seem 
delayed! Sitting down and scowU 
ing, standing up and grow^ling, fus-^ 
sing round complaining w^ill not 
bring the trade! Here comes Mr. 
Perkins for a quart of gherkins — 
don^t begin to tell him all about your 
woes ; you will only bore him, laying 
griefs before him, and he'll be dis- 
gusted when he ups and goes* Show 
him that youVe cheerful, for the 
merchant tearful always jars his 
patrons, always makes them groan ; 
they don't want to hearken to the 
ills that darken over you for they 
have troubles of their own* 

Here comes Mrs. Twutter for 
three yards of butter — ^let her see 
you smiling, let her find you gay; 
be as bright and chipper as a new 
tin dipper, show youVe optimistic, 
in the good old way! If you mope 
and mumble this good dame will 



^1 

i 



158 



«■ 




tumble, and sKe^U tell her neigkbors 
tkat your head is sore ; no one likes 
a dealer who's a dismal squealer, so 
your friends will toddle to some 
otker store. When the luck seems 
balky, and the trade is rocky, that's 
the time to whistle, that's the time 
to grin! Time to make a showing 
that your trade is growing, time to 
show your grit and rustle round like 
sin. 

Here comes Mr. Bunyan for a 
shredded onion, bullion in his trou«- 
sers, checkbook in his coat; give 
him no suspicion that the dull con-' 
dition in the world of commerce has 
destroyed your goat! 



159 



LADIES AND GENTS 

TV/HEN I was younger kids were 
^^ kids, in Kansas or in Cadiz; 
now all the hoys are gentlemen, and 
all tlie girls are ladies. Where are 
the kids who climhed the trees, the 
tousled young carousers, who got 
their faces black with dirt, and tore 
their little trousers? Where are the 
lads who scrapped by rounds, while 
other lads kept tallies? The maids 
who made their pies of mud, and 
danced in dirty alleys? TkeyVe 
making calf-love somew^here now, 
exchanging cards and kisses, they Ve 
all fixed up in Sunday togs, and they 
are Sirs and Misses. Real kids have 
vanished from the world — ^which 
fact is surely hades ; and all the hoys 
are gentlemen, and all the girls are 
ladies. 



160 



■n 



' 



AUTUMN JOYS 

' I 'HE summer days liave gone tlieir 
, •*• ways, to join tke days of sum-' 
mers olden ; tlie eager air is making 
bare tke trees, the leaves are red and 
golden ; the flowers tkat bloomed are 
now entombed, the mom is cbill, the 
night is dreary; and I confront the 
same old stunt that all my life has 
made me weary. Hard by yon grove 
our heating stove is standing red 
and fierce and rusty; and I must 
black its front and back, and get 
myself all scratched and dusty. And 
I must pack it on my back, about a 
mile, up to our shanty, and work 
w^ith wire and pipes and fire, the 
while I quote w^arm things from 
Dante. 



161 



THE LAND OF BORES 

IN tlie country of tke bores people 
* never shut tke doors, and they 
leave tke windows open, so you're 
always catching cold; and they lean 
against your breast while relating 
moldy jest that had long and flow-* 
ing whiskers when by Father Adam 
told. In the country of the bores 
people carry sample ores, and they 
talk of mines prolific till you buy ten 
thousand shares; and they sell you 
orange groves and revolving fire- 
less stoves, while they loll upon your 
divan with their feet upon your 
chairs. In the country of the bores 
every other fellow roars of the sins, 
of public servants and the need of 
better things; in a nation full of vice 
he alone is pure and nice, he alone 
has got a halo and a flossy pair of 
wings. In the country of the bores 
men who wish to do their chores are 
disturbed by agitators who declaim 
of iron heels, urging toiling men to 
rise, with chain lightning in their 



162 



(^ 



L 



eyes and Jo sometliing to tte tyrant 
and his car w^itk bloody ^vlieels. In 
tke country of tlie bores evermore 
the talksmith pours floods of Ian-' 
^ua^e on the people, who vi^ere better 
left alone. But that land is far away, 
and we should rejoice today that 
we re living in a country w^here no 
bores were ever known. 



163 



k 



SKILLED LABOR 

' I 'HE pumpmaker came to my 
•*• humble abode^ for the pump was 
in need of repair; his auto he left 
by the side of the road, and his dia- 
monds he placed on a chair. And 
he said that the weather was really 
too cold, for comfort, this time of 
the year ; and he thought from Japan 
— though she's haughty and bold — 
this country has nothing to fear. 
He thought that our navy should 
equal the best, for a navy's a warrant 
of peace ; and he said w^hen a man 
has a cold on his chest, there's 
nothing as good as goose grease. 
He thought that the peach crop is 
ruined for good, and the home team 
IS playing good ball; and the cur-* 
rency question is not understood, by 
the voters he said, not at all. Then 
he looked at the pump and he gave 
it a whack and he kicked at the 
spout and said ^'Shucks!" And he 
ioggled tke handle three t£mes up 
and back, and soaked me for seven-' 
teen bucks. 



164 



-a«#-i 



AN EDITORIAL SOLILOQUY 

I SIT all day in my gorgeous clen 
and I am the boss of a hundred 
men ; my enemies shake at my slight-' 
est scowl, I make the country sit up 
and howl ; to the farthest ends of this 
blooming land men feel the w^eight 
of my iron hand* 

But, oh, for the old, old shop. 
Where I printed the Punktown 

And^tw and s.e« wid. Ae ^ 
darned old press 
That always refused to work! 

I soothe my face with a rich cigar 
and ride around in a motor car; I go 
to a swell cafe to dine and soak my 
works in the rarest wine. Oh, noth-' 
ing's too rich for your Uncle Jones, 
whose check is good for a heap of 
bones ! 

But, oh, for the old, old shop. 
Where I set up the auction bills. 

And printed an ad of a liver pad. 
And took out the pay in pills ! 



165 



I 

I Ve won tlie prize in the worldly 
game, my name^s inscribed on the 
roll of fame; my home is stately, in 
stately grounds, I have my yacht 
and I ride to hounds; nothing IVe 
longed for has been denied; is it 
any w^onder I point with pride? 

But, oh, for the old, old shop. 
In the dusty Punktown street ! 

I was full of hope as I wrote my 
dope. 
Though I hadn't enough to eat! 



1 

6 



1 



16€ 



YOUTHFUL GRIEVANCES 

lyiY LADS," quotk tke fatter, 
^y ^ *coine forth to tke garden, 
and merrily work in the glow of the 
sun; to loiter ahout is a crime be-^ 
yond pardon, w^hen there *s so much 
hoeing that has to he done! It 
pains me to mark that you^d fain he 
retreating aw^ay from the hoes and 
such weapons as these; youVe dili-* 
gent, though, w^hen the time comes 
for eating the turnips and lettuce 
and cahhage and peas/ 

**Alas/* sigh the toys, **that our 
father must w^ork us like galley 
slaves, thus, at the hoe and the 
spade! More fortunate lads all 
have gone to the circus, they revel 
in peanuts and pink lemonade ! Oh, 
what is the profit of pruning and 
trimming, and sowing the radish, and 
planting the yam, when everyone 
knows there is excellent swimming 
two miles up the creek at the foot of 
the dam?^ 

**Sail in!" cries the parent, *'the 



167 



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J 



i miiBMM ii — WW i 







daytime is speeding, the night will 
be here in the space of three shakes ! 
Oh, this is the season for digging 
and seeding, for doing great deeds 
^th the long'handled rakes! Con-* 
sider the maxims of Franklin, the 
printer, the rede of the prophets, of 
poets "who sing; in comfort they live 
through the stress of the winter, who 
toil like the ants or the hees in the 
spring! 

**For maxims and proverbs it^s 
little weVe wishing,'' the boys mut- 
ter low, as they wearily delve; *^the 
neighbor boy says there is elegant 
fishing — he w^ent after cat£sh and 
came home vt^ith tw^elve. We have 
to stay here doing labors that cramp 
us, while others are pulling out nsh 
by the pound ! They're playing base-' 
ball every day on the campus, and 
down in the grove there's a merry- 
go-round !" 

Alack! II the parents could see 
with the vision of boys and if boys 
used the eyes of their sires, then 
fun would be labor, with rapture 
elysian, and toil w^ould be play« to 
the music of lyres! 



168 



SUNDAY 

jVTOW the day is fading slowly and 
•*• ^ tlie week is near its close ; comes 
the Sahhath, calm and holy, w^ith 
its quiet and repose ; then the w^heels 
no more are driven, and the noise no 
longer swells and like whisperings oi 
heaven, sound the far-off Sahhath 
hells. Are w^e striving, are we reach-* 
ing, for the life serene and sweet? j 
Not by platitudes and preaching, not i 
by praying on the street, but by 
doing deeds of kindness, comforting 
some heart that^s sore, helping those 
w^ho grope m blindness, giving some-' 
thing from our store. If it be our 
strong endeavor to make others^ 
lives less hard, then forever and 
forever Sunday brings a rich reward. 



169 



JOHN BARLEYCORN 

f LIKE to find the gifted youth, the 
* youth of brains and virtue, and 
whisper in his ears : **In truth, one 
flagon will not hurt you. He who 
eschews the painted breath is nothing 
but a fossil; just try a drink of 
liquid death- — ^just join me in high 
wassail/* At first my w^ords may 
not avail, they but offend and fret 
him, but I keep camping on his trail 
until at last I get him. 

And having marked him for my 
own, I glory in the reaping; I feel 
that death, and death alone, can 
take him from my keeping, He^s 
mine to do w^ith as I will, he^s mine, 
both soul and body; his one ambi-« 
tion is to fill his outcast form w^ith 
toddy. At first I take away his 
pride, destroy his sense of honor, 
and w^hen I see these things have 
died, I know he is a goner. I house 
him in a squalid den, and take his 
decent garments, and entertain him 
now and then with rats and other 



170 



iUMNHMMaMMM 






varmints. I place a mortgage on his 
shack, despite Kis feeble ravings, I 
put old rags upon his hack, and con-' 
fiscate his savings. And thus I take 
what is a man, here in your Chris-* 
tian city, and make him, by my 
ancient plan, a thing to scorn and 
pity. 

My victims lie in Potter's Fields 
in regiments and legions ; John Bar-* 
leycorn his scepter w^ields o'er all 
these smiling regions. I £nd new 
victims every day as I go blithely 
roaming ; a million feet I lead astray 
between the daw^n and gloaming. 
With sparkling beer and foaming 
ale I am my friends befriending, 
and to the poorhouse and the jail 
my followers are wending. You 
hear the pageant's dreary song as 
down the road it ambles; I w^onder, 
oftentimes, how long youll stand 
my cheerful gambols? 



tfi 



171 






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CHRISTMAS DAY 

TT is the day ol kindness, and ior 
* tkis day weVe freed from aU the 
sordid blindness of selfishness and 
greed ; ^^e have a thought for others, 
we^d ease their load of care ; and all 
men are our brothers* and all the 
world is fair. 

This is the day of laughter, where-* 
in no shadows fall; and ^neath the 
cottage rafter, and in the muUioned 
hall, are happy cries ascending, and 
songs of joy and peace ; why should 
they have an ending? Why should 
the music cease? The music! When 
we hear it, we old men softly sigh: 
^^Could hut the Christmas spirit live 
on, and never die !^* 

This is the day of giving, and 
giving with a smile makes this gray 
life we^re living seem doubly worth 
the while. When giving we're for- 
getting the counting-'room and mart, 
and all the work-day fretting — and 
this improves the heart; forgetting 



172 



J. 



i 



bonds and leases, and every sordid 
goal — tLis sort of tking increases tLe 
stature of the soul ! 

Tkis is the day of smiling, and 
faces stern and drear, on w^kicK few 
smiles beguiling are seen tkrougbout 
tbe year, are lighted up with pleasure 
and eyes are soft today, and old men 
trip a measure w^ith children in their 
play. And graybeards laugh when 
pelted with snow by springalds flung, 
and frozen hearts are melted, and 
ancient hearts are young. 

It is a day for singing old songs 
our fathers knew, w^hile gladsome 
bells are ringing a message sweet to 
you; a day that brings us nearer to 
heaven^s neighborhood, that makes 
our vision clearer for all that^s true 
and good. 

On with the Christmas revels in 
cottage and in hall! While from the 
starry levels smiles Christ, who 
loves us all! 



* 



173 



I 



A CRANK'S THANKSGIVING 

f IKE others , Fm grateful for 
•'-^ plenty to eat ; Fm fond of a plate- 
ful of rick turkey meat. For pies in 
the cupboard, and coal in the km, 
for tires that are rubbered, and 
motors that spin ; for all of my 
treasures, for all that I earn, for 
comforts and pleasures, my thanks 
I return. Ini glad that the nation is 
greasy and rich, acquiring high sta-' 
tion with nary a hitch ; her barns are 
a-bursting with mountains of grain; 
her people are thirsting for glory and 
gam. She u ne'er backw^ard linger, 
this land of our dads, for she is a 
dinger at nailing the scads. Fm 
glad that our vessels bring cargoes 
across, while counting rooms w^restle 
with profit and loss ; that men know 
the beauties of figures and dates, 
and tariffs and duties and railway 
rebates. 

Fm glad there are dreamers not 
industry • drunk, surrounded by 
schenriers whose god is the plunk. 



174 






'•^««-T»f'«fl«»"lf»jl';f»t>. 



Fm glad we ve remainingf incompe- 
tent jays, not always a-s training, in 
four hundred w^ays, to run down and 
collar one bigf rouble more, to add to 
tke dollar they nailed just before. 
Fm glad there are writers more 
proud of their screeds than hoard of 

^ trade £ghters of options and deeds. 

f Fm glad there are preachers who 
tell of a shore w^here wealth-weary 
creatures need scheme never more. 

For books that were written by 
masters of thought; for harps that 
I w^ere smitten w^ith Homeric swat; 

I for canvases painted by monarchs 

1 of art; for all things untainted by 

I tricks of the mart; for hearts that 

I are kindly, w^ith virtue and peace, 

I and not seeking blindly a hoard to 

I increase; for those who are griev- 

ing o'er life's sordid plan; for souls 
still believing in heaven and man; 
for homes that are lowly ivith love 
at the board; for things that are 
holy, I thank thee, O Lord ! 



<? 



■amfmtm 



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175 



THE BRIEF VISIT 

I WONT be long in tkis vale of 
* tears; my works may run for a 
few more years, tut even that ia a 
risky bet, and the sports are hedging 
already yet. At morningf a ifent feels 
gay and nice ; and evening finds him 
upon the ice, with his folded hands 
and his long white gown, and his 
toes turned up and his plans turned 
dow^n. So, viewing this sad un-' 
certainty, and hearing the w^ash of 
the Dead Man's sea, I want to 
chortle the best I can, and try to 
cheer up my fellow man ; to make a 
fellow forget his care, and make 
him laugh when he w^ants to swear, 
is as much as a poet can hope to do, 
whose lyre is twisted and broke in 
two. 



u 



176 



OCT 15 1913 



LIBRARY OF 



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